


Fun Lessons for Auntie Nat

by marieadriana



Series: ARROW, Inc. [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Druids, Established Relationship, Gossip, Manicures & Pedicures, Multi, Secret Marriage, Telepathic Bond, girl talk, slumber party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-17 23:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12376482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marieadriana/pseuds/marieadriana
Summary: In her ongoing lessons in how to have fun, Natasha is tasked with hosting a "real" slumber party by Phil's nieces.Takes place in July 2011, approximately a month after 'Battle of the Biceps.'





	1. Chapter 1

~ * ~

Dear Auntie Nat,

It’s time for your next fun lesson! Lily and I worked really hard on this one. You are going to have a real slumber party! Here are the rules:

1\. You have to invite at least two girls, or it doesn’t count.  
2\. It’s best if there is four, six, or eight of you total, so you can play games with teams.  
3\. Everyone has to wear real pajamas, not sweat pants and T-shirts.  
4\. You have to eat junk food like ice cream, potato chips, M&Ms, and popcorn.  
5\. You have to drink sugary soda. (Sarah adds: Booze totally counts.)  
6\. You have to do at least one of the following: watch a romance movie, play video games, play a board game, paint each other’s nails, or play truth-or-dare. (Sarah adds: Or any drinking game. I recommend Never Have I Ever.)  
7\. You gotta talk about ~~boys~~ who likes who. (Sarah adds: I had a proud mom moment when Lily corrected this to be gender neutral.)  
8\. It doesn’t count unless you sleep on the floor in sleeping bags.  
9\. You have to stay up later than you normally do.

That’s all we can think of! Make sure you take pictures so you can show us how much fun you had!

Love,

Rose

~ * ~

Natasha folded the note back up, sliding it into the same hidden pocket she kept her secure cell phone. This had seemed like a harmless exercise when she’d mentioned it to the Scoobies a month ago. Now it felt like trying to plan a three-stage op just using a dial-up modem and an atlas.

Actually, the op would be easier.

She knocked lightly on Maria Hill’s open door, stepping in when she heard the absent greeting. Natasha strolled over to the desk and sat on the edge, facing Maria, until the senior agent looked up at her. “What can I do for you, Romanoff?”

“You free Saturday night?” Natasha asked.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Maria asked, her lips twitching.

“I’m asking if you’ll help me fulfill my latest fun homework from my nieces – I’m supposed to have a ‘real’ slumber party.”

Maria leaned back in her chair. “You mentioned that before. I thought you were joking.”

“Nope.” Natasha looked down at her hands. “Mother wants me to learn how to play, and the twins are willing to teach me, so…” she trailed off, shrugging.

Maria was still adjusting to this newer, softer Natasha. Oh, the Black Widow was as merciless as ever, and Agent Romanoff was one of SHIELD’s top agents… but Natasha was peeking through more and more. It was weird, but not in a bad way. “Who all is coming?”

“I’m inviting you, Misty, Sam, Angie, and Catriona. My instructions say to keep it to even numbers, so we can pair off for games.”

“Instructions?” Maria’s lips twitched. “You’ve got instructions for this slumber party?”

“Handwritten, numbered, even annotated by their mom.”

“Well, what kind of friend would I be if I made you uneven and you broke one of the rules?” Maria said, mastering the urge to laugh. “What time?”

“Six o’clock. Bring real pajamas, a sleeping bag if you’ve got one, and a pillow.”

“Anything else?”

Natasha quirked her lip at Maria. “Sarah – their mom – says we can substitute alcohol for soda, so pick your poison.”

“Good to know.” Maria grinned. “I’ll see you Saturday night, then.”

Natasha waved a dismissal and walked the short distance down the hall from Maria’s office to Phil’s. His door was open but he was on the phone. She slipped in, closing the door behind her but not locking it, and sank onto his couch. Phil acknowledged her with a smile but there was no change in his intonation on the phone. She leaned into the cushions, taking the opportunity to just watch him be Agent Coulson.

Phil hung up his desk phone, jotted down a note to himself, and turned his attention to his wife. The small smile she wore was one of his favorites – a sweet expression that he was fairly certain was just for her husbands. “What brings you to my couch this afternoon, love?” Phil rose and took his jacket off, hanging it neatly on the back of his chair before moving to join her on the couch.

“Had to talk to Maria.” She leaned into him – not an embrace, because they were both aware of the unlocked door, but even just the contact along their sides, through layers of clothing, warmed her heart. She turned her head into his shoulder, nuzzling briefly, before retreating to a slightly more professional distance. “She was my last invite for Saturday.”

Phil’s eyes sparkled. “Ah, yes. For the secret agent slumber party.” He ran a finger down her arm, stopping to tap her wedding band gently before he, too, resumed a more professional position. “Clint and I got instructions too, you know. I’m allowed to tell you we got them, but not what they are,” he added at her sharp look. “According to my nieces, we’re not allowed to screw this up for you, or else.”

Her lips twitched. “They threatened you?”

“Rose threatened me,” he clarified. “On paper, and then on the phone. Sarah finally took the phone from her and told me they’ve been working really hard on this, and that if I didn’t like it, I should think of it as a training exercise.” He grinned, and Natasha felt a squeeze at her heart to see him so openly happy, even here at SHIELD.

“They’re good girls… the nieces and your sister.” Natasha looked down at her wedding ring, then gave in to the impulse and reached for Phil’s hand.

“You alright?” he murmured. They tried – with varying degrees of success – to keep their conduct professional on SHIELD premises, but small pockets of intimacy kept cropping up.

Natasha nodded, squeezing his hand in her own. “Just needed to top up my batteries, I guess,” she said lightly.

“A little extra love to get you through the day?” he asked, smiling. He leaned over and kissed her tenderly. “Always willing to oblige.”

~ * ~


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Uncle Phil,

We usually leave you out of Auntie Nat’s fun lessons, but you have to be part of this one, and you’re not allowed to mess it up. This is really important.

Mom says because you’ve been a big brother before, you can play the grown up for Auntie’s slumber party. You have to:

1) Try to make them go to bed on time.  
2) Get up at least once in the night to tell them they are being noisy.  
3) Make breakfast Sunday morning.

This is really important, Uncle Phil. Auntie Nat needs to be a little naughty, so she can learn it can be fun. Not big naughty – just the little stuff. Like sneaking an extra cookie from Grandma even though Mom says no. (Sarah adds: As if I didn’t pull the same trick on our Grandma.)

Don’t screw this up, or else.

Love,

Rose

~ * ~

When Natasha had left his office, Phil returned to the ever-present stack of forms in his inbox, but half his mind was on Saturday night. His assigned duty, per his nieces, was to be the responsible adult. Granted, he was probably better suited to it than Clint – but without those very firmly worded instructions, he’d have packed up Clint and left Natasha and her guests to have the house to themselves.

Apparently, that wasn’t allowed.

Phil didn’t consider disobeying his orders – nor did he think his niece was out of line to send them to him. He knew that Lily and Rose were taking these fun lessons very seriously, and they had been good for Natasha so far – the picture of her, rosy cheeked and snow-bedecked from a snowball fight was one of his favorites. If Rose decided Natasha needed to learn the joy of tiny rebellions… he wasn’t going to argue.

It was going to be odd, though, having her in the house but not in bed. It wasn’t unusual for one of them to be out late or up early, leaving the other two alone for a few hours… but they’d yet to have the kind of argument that would lead to anyone sleeping on the couch or in the guest room. That, Phil was intensely grateful for, because he did not want to be put in a position where he had to side with one spouse or the other… or have them side against him. He’d had those kind of arguments with significant others in the past… particularly with Ken. His mind shied away from those memories. Even with years of distance and the cushion of his marriage now, those memories hurt. He’d been a fool, and that was nearly as bad as the betrayal. 

He was fighting the mental whirlpool of those thoughts when his door was knocked on quietly. He looked up and flashed a professional, polite smile at Agent Barton. “Barton, what can I do for you?” he asked. Clint stepped in, closed the door behind him, and flipped the deadbolt. Phil’s eyebrows lifted. “What’s up, pretty bird?” Clint crossed the room to where he sat behind his desk, pinned him in his chair by bracing himself on both arms, and lowed himself to kiss Phil with an intensity that was welcome, if surprising. When Clint pulled back, Phil blinked. “Not that I’m complaining, but… what brought that on?”

Clint sat down on the edge of Phil’s desk in front of him, hands still on the arms of Phil’s chair. “You were thinking sad thoughts.”

“And you knew this because…?” Phil prompted.

His husband shook his head, leaning forward for another kiss. Clint’s hands left the arms of the chair to cup Phil’s face, his thumbs caressing cheekbones, jaw line. “Mama mojo.”

“If you’re developing more of Gaia’s gifts, it would be nice to know.”

Clint shook his head again. “Just about you.”

“You’re rather nonverbal at the moment, lovebird – is there something else going on in that head of yours?” Phil asked gently. He spread his knees and edged the chair forward so that he could pin Clint between them, a physical reassurance that his touch was welcome.

“Don’t like it when you think of him,” Clint blurted.

Phil’s hands froze on their way up Clint’s sides. “How did you…? No, it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t thinking good things about him, lovebird. I wasn’t even really thinking bad things, just… things.”

“I know.” Clint rested his forehead against Phil’s. “You know when you get an email, and you get that little noise on your phone? I got like the mental equivalent of that, and I just knew you were thinking about him, and hurting.”

“You get a mental ping when I think about Ken?” Phil repeated in disbelief.

“So did Nat, but she’s in the ring with the Scoobies,” Clint added. “It’s not just me. But she was already in here once this afternoon, and she didn’t want to risk both of us barging in here. So you get me.”

“I never complain about that.” Phil cupped one hand over Clint’s cheek. He was moved, to realize his spouses had some sort of mental check-in on him. It didn’t surprise him that they did; what surprised him was that it didn’t bother him. Instead of feeling smothered, he felt… cherished. “I was comparing the fights I used to have with him to the fights I don’t have with you two.”

“Oh.” Clint sounded slightly sheepish. “I… guess maybe I should have asked questions first. Nat’s calling me an idiot.”

Phil laughed and pulled Clint off the desk, twisting until he could settle the archer in his lap. It wasn’t a comfortable position to stay in, but for a few minutes it would do. “Impulsive and impish I’ll grant you – not idiotic.”

Clint rested his head against Phil’s. “Sorry. We get – I get paranoid. Hard to compete with a dead guy, you know?”

In response, Phil took Clint’s left hand in his and let their wedding rings clink together. “There’s no competition, lovebird,” Phil murmured. “The only reason Ken had a shot is that I hadn’t met my achroi ghra yet.”

“Smooth talker,” Clint retorted, to disguise the pleasant flush he felt at Phil’s soft declaration.

“Hopeless romantic,” Phil replied, tapping their rings again. “Go back to work. I’d like to get these reports done so I can get out of here.”

“Right.” Clint slid off his husband, automatically straightening Phil’s tie before moving towards the door. “Back to the gym. When I left, Angie had twenty bucks on Lancelot getting thrown within the first ten in the ring with Nat.”

“I’ll put twenty on Lance staying on his feet for the whole thirty minutes,” Phil said with a grin. “Angie’s got no faith in our teaching abilities.”

Clint returned the grin and added a cocky salute as he opened the door, strolling back down to the gym with his usual strut.

{It’s really more of a swagger,} Natasha informed him telepathically.

{Oh, hush. I’m trying to regain my equilibrium through body language,} Clint responded, humor lacing his words. {I expected tears or grief or something, and I got declarations of devotion instead. I’m all akimbo.}

{I’m going to kill whoever gave you that word-a-day calendar.} He heard her grunt. {Damn, Lance might actually last.}

“AC put twenty bucks on Lance holding out the whole thirty,” Clint replied aloud as he strolled back into the gym. It was just the he, Natasha, and the Scoobies, so he didn’t bother being cagey about it.

“You’re kidding!” Angie looked appalled. “Even Sam can’t do that.”

“Different tactics,” Clint explained, leaning against the edge of the ring to watch. “Lance is being taught how to GTFO – Sam is being taught to be a BAMF.”

Chuck glared at him. “Seriously, Clint? That’s how you describe their fighting styles?”

“Agent Mackey is being schooled in advanced evasion techniques, which focus primarily on defensive and escape strategies. Agent Adams is being trained in a more aggressive fighting style, as her position on the team is that of an offensive, first-line attacker,” Clint replied in his best Agent Barton voice.

“Crap, I hate it when you do that,” Sam grumbled. Clint flashed her a grin.

“Shut up, all of you,” Lance ordered from the ring, his eyes still on Natasha. 

Several of the Scoobies were shocked that Lance would order any of them to do anything, but Clint merely grinned wider. He knew that tone of voice – that was the sound of a man so focused on his goal that there was no space even for courtesy. It was also the voice of a man about to win.

Natasha feinted to one side but Lance was not fooled, and instead seized her left elbow and twisted in a complicated move that neither Natasha nor Clint had taught him but which resulted in Natasha landing flat on her back, looking up at the ceiling as Lance stepped back and grinned.

“Pay up,” Clint crowed to the others, and there was grumbling as those who’d bet against Lance settled the bets. “Lancelot, who the hell taught you that throw?”

“AC did,” Lance said, still grinning. He offered Natasha a hand up, which she took and rose lithely. “It was my reward for getting all my paperwork in on time last month.”

“Hell of a reward,” Natasha grumbled. “I hate it when he gets tricky.” She rubbed her elbow where Lance had twisted it.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked repentantly, reaching for her elbow to take a look.

“Just my pride,” she replied, and softened it with a grin. “You did good, Lance.” He grinned, so infectiously boyish that she reached up and ruffled his hair, feeling a surge of affection for the tactician.

“AC okay?” he asked, his voice pitched low so that it didn’t travel to the rest of the squad. Natasha met his eyes, one eyebrow raised. “There isn’t much that’ll send Clint out of the gym during a bout, and he did come back saying AC had placed a bet…”

Natasha smiled and ruffled his hair again, just because it made her feel warm. “He’s good. We’re just… protective.”

“Gee.” Lance rolled his eyes. “I’d never noticed.”

~ * ~


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Uncle Clint,

Rose got to write the other two lists, but I called dibs on writing yours. I know these fun lessons are for Auntie Nat, but because Aunt Catriona will be there too, I wanted to add some stuff. I want you to act like the little brother. I know you have a real brother. Momma told me, and said Uncle Phil doesn’t like him. I figure he isn’t a very good brother if Uncle Phil doesn’t like him, so you might not like pretending to be a little brother for Auntie Nat’s party, but it’s important. See, at a slumber party, your brothers and sisters or cousins are kind of half on your side, half on the parent side. They want to have fun with you, but they’re also kind of jealous that you’re the one having friends over and they don’t. So they can be annoying – making fun of the movie you pick, or trying to hog the popcorn, or teasing your friends. I am not asking you to be mean, but to be kind of annoying. You know how Uncle Phil gets that sort of mad look on his face and sighs really big when Auntie Darla calls him Lip? Like that. It’s the kind of annoying you only get from family or people who feel like family. I don’t think Aunt Catriona has had much of that. She has this picture in her head of families being perfect, and I kind of think she needs to see that even when they aren’t perfect, they’re pretty awesome.

You can tell Uncle Phil what your assignment is, but don’t tell Auntie Nat or Aunt Catriona. It’ll spoil it. Rose thinks I should threaten you like she did Uncle Phil, but I don’t think I need to. I bet you want Aunt Catriona and Auntie Nat to see how awesome family can be too.

Lots of Love,  
Lily

~ * ~

Clint was surprised to be the first home Friday evening. He’d even swung by the grocery store before heading to the house, but he’d still beaten Natasha and Phil home. Granted, Phil was probably still at his desk – but Natasha had left about the same time he had, and she hated to shop even more than he did.

{Picking up supplies for tomorrow,} Natasha told him telepathically. {And trying not to overthink it.}

He was glad he was home and could let his grin spread. {You’re going to have a blast, Sunshine.}

{That’s what the girls tell me,} she answered, and he could feel her sigh. {I’m just… nervous, I guess.}

Clint could feel the truth in that, feel her anticipation and anxiety as easily as he would his own. {Yeah. I get that. You were kind of like this before your snowball fight, too, and before you pulled that prank for last month’s assignment, and those turned out good.}

Natasha’s mental voice tinged with amusement. {That prank was fun.} She’d been instructed to come up with a prank that would embarrass someone but not cause any serious physical or mental harm and wouldn’t get anyone in trouble at work. After a lot of research and double-checking SHIELD policy, she’d replaced the shampoo in CJ’s locker with one that would temporarily dye his blonde hair a red that nearly matched her own. His reaction had been fantastic, and she’d also kind of liked that he really looked like a brother to her for the couple of days it stayed vibrant.

{This will be, too. And if you weren’t going to have booze, I’d suggest we invite Rose and Lily over for it. If this one turns out, maybe you can do it again some weekend, and we can get Sarah and Iris to bring them here for a couple of days.}

{That would be fun, too,} she agreed. He felt her attention divert, and wasn’t surprised when she said, {I apparently need to pay attention to what I’m doing. I should be home in an hour or so.}

{Alright. See you then.} Clint let their mental connection shrink – it never really went away, but they could sort of tune each other out when they wanted to – and wandered into the kitchen, wondering if there was anything he could do to prep dinner, or if he should leave it for Phil.

Deciding not to risk the cook’s wrath by botching any ingredients, Clint washed the mugs sitting in the sink, cleaned the counter, and then moved to set the table. It was still bizarre to him, spending time at home with his spouses and not feeling constrained by it. For most of his adult life, he’d spent as many hours at clubs and bars as he could – drowning his thoughts either in liquor or a willing body. Sometimes both.

Usually both.

He shook his head, grinning at himself. Instead, he was setting a dinner table with actual china and linen, and there would be an honest-to-Goddess home-cooked meal to serve on it later. Tomorrow, he’d be the annoying little brother at Natasha’s slumber party, and then curl up in bed with Phil and listen for her laughter. Life had gotten pretty awesome.

He thought it was charming that Lily had written to him as well, to include him in Natasha’s slumber party plans. He knew Phil had been instructed to serve as the responsible adult and that Rose’s instructions had been pretty firmly worded, but Lily was more concerned about his own response and about Catriona. The left-handed flower girl had latched onto Catriona as thoroughly as her twin had fixed on Natasha, and Clint approved whole-heartedly. It would have been weird, to be told to act as his wife’s little brother – but he could do it for Catriona easily.

Even if Lily was right, and he didn’t have a very good brother as an example.

Ruthlessly, Clint shoved that thought away. Thoughts of Barney had no place in this house.

He heard the door open, and turned towards it in time to see Phil enter, sliding out of his coat and shoes almost before the door latched behind him. “Good evening, pretty bird.” Phil reached out a hand, which Clint took willingly. “Mmm.” Phil tugged until Clint was cradled against his shoulder. “Why does the first Friday night hug always feel so good?”

Clint chuckled into Phil’s shoulder. “I have no idea.”

“Where’s Nat?”

“Shopping for supplies for tomorrow night, and stressing about it,” Clint informed him.

Phil rolled his eyes. “She does know this is supposed to be fun, right?”

“She’ll have fun,” Clint promised. “She’s just got to do her thing first.”

Phil curled tighter around Clint, not particularly ready to let go even though standing by the door in the hallway wasn’t the best place for a cuddle. After several moments, he released his husband with a sigh and stepped into the kitchen. “What would you like for dinner?”

Clint’s grin turned mischievous. “Well…”

“Food, pretty bird,” Phil said firmly. “We’ve got to keep up our strength, after all – if Natasha’s got nervous energy to burn.”

“True.” Clint pondered. “We still have those steaks?”

“We do, and that’s a good thought.” Phil slipped on his apron and began assembling tools and ingredients. He gave the potatoes to Clint to peel and cut, and the two of them were working in companionable silence when Natasha came home, laden with grocery bags.

Clint leapt up to help her, relieving her of several sacks and sneaking looks in them. “M&Ms, Doritos, Cheetos… did you just go down the junk food aisle and pick one of everything?”

“I had a list,” Natasha retorted. “I got some of everybody’s favorites.”

Phil smiled at her, leaning over to snag a kiss as she put bottles into the refrigerator. “And you didn’t misuse your security clearance to figure out those favorites, of course.” Natasha’s cheeks pinked and Phil laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me, love.”

“Okay, I gotta know who likes these,” Clint demanded, holding up a bag of rice cakes.

Natasha shrugged. “Angie buys a lot of them.”

Phil and Clint exchanged a look. “Maybe don’t bring them out right away,” Phil suggested.

“Why?”

There was another wordless exchange between Clint and Phil. The older man sighed. “That particular brand is for people who are trying to lose weight, or keep their weight down. It’s not usually something people eat because they really like it – it’s to keep from eating something with more calories or fat.”

Natasha eyed the bag. “Really. Why would Angie buy them?”

“You’d have to ask her,” Phil evaded, but Natasha fixed him with a glare. “There’s some indication in her file that she’s had some problems with her weight in the past.”

“What kind of problems?” Natasha demanded.

“The kind that get noted in psych evals,” Clint guessed, and winced at Phil’s nod. “I’m guessing anorexia.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” Phil said with a sigh. “And I didn’t tell either of you that, because it would be a breach of trust.”

Natasha grabbed the bag of rice cakes, glowered at the brand label, and shoved them into a cabinet. “You didn’t have to tell us. Obviously, I did some research after I discovered how many of those she buys – and what she doesn’t buy. Because no one is surprised when I invade their privacy,” she added sourly.

“None of that, love,” Phil chided gently. “Even the Scoobies believe in your omniscience. It doesn’t hurt to let them.”

“How did you know?” Natasha asked Clint.

“Laura,” he said simply. Natasha blinked, her mouth opening to demand to know more. “She worked really hard after Cooper was born to get back down to her pre-baby weight. I’ve seen her do some of the same stuff Angie does around food.”

Natasha sank down onto the stool next to Clint. “Like what?”

“Ordering a salad, dressing on the side, and then getting this guilty flicker every time she used any… eating the stuffings out of a sandwich but leaving the bread… turning down dessert but then looking pinched when she watched someone else eating it,” Clint counted off on his fingers. “I think your serum keeps you from having to watch your weight, but there are a lot of women that do… and some of them who do it a little too much.”

“As long as they’re healthy, it’s their choice,” Phil reminded his husband. “From what you’ve told me, Laura never crossed over into unhealthy or obsessive.”

“No,” Clint agreed. “But I think Angie did, at some point. Maybe not now, but…” he shrugged. “I saw it in the circus, too, especially among the acrobats. Always wanting to be light, slim.”

“Should I go back to the store and get healthy snacks?” Natasha asked, thinking about the hoard of junk food she’d brought home. Her instructions had explicitly said junk food, but if it was going to make her guests uncomfortable…

“No,” Phil said firmly. “You’re following orders,” he added with a smile. “The Scoobies will understand that. If Angie – or anyone – feels like they need to eat something else, they’re welcome to rummage in the kitchen.”

Clint reached over and touched the crease between Natasha’s eyebrows, her facial giveaway when she was struggling with something. “If it bugs you that bad, bring it up tomorrow night with them.”

“I might,” Natasha admitted.

~ * ~


	4. Chapter 4

“Am I supposed to already be in my pajamas?” Natasha asked Phil, trying not to let her nervousness show. “When they get here, I mean.”

Phil kept his own smile tucked inside. “I don’t think so. At least, my sisters never did. There would be a point in the evening where all the girls would just decide it was PJ time.”

“Okay. Right.” Natasha ran her hands through her hair. “You don’t think the camp mattresses on the floor are cheating, do you? Rose said it doesn’t count if we don’t sleep on the floor in sleeping bags.”

“Allowances can be made for the fact that none of you have eleven-year-old bones,” Phil replied, leaning over to kiss her lightly. “It counts. And your guests will be grateful.”

Natasha bit her lip and nodded. Phil thought she looked adorable, and only the knowledge that their house was about to be invaded by guests kept him from ravishing her against the countertop. Instead, he turned his attention back to the rather large batch of spaghetti sauce he was stirring. Rose’s instructions hadn’t ordered him to prepare dinner, but he rather thought that plates of his home cooking would be more welcome than the traditional sleep-over pizza.

Clint came down the steps, taking the last two in a giant hop and grinned at Natasha. “When’s the gang showing up?”

“Half an hourish,” Natasha answered without having to look at her watch.

“You pick out a movie yet?”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed on him. “No. But that doesn’t mean you get to pick it, either.”

He sank onto one of the kitchen stools. “Spoilsport.”

“You’d pick some action movie, and spend the whole thing yelling at the actors ‘Tactical reload! You ran out of ammo eight shots ago!’ and it gets distracting.”

Clint snorted. “So? You watch Bond movies and critique his technique. Even Connery Bond.”

Natasha sniffed dismissively. “A handsome face is no excuse for poor tradecraft.”

“Handsome face, eh?” Phil said, leaning over to her to snag another kiss. “Should I worry about you running off with that devil of a Scotsman?”

Natasha leaned into the kiss. “No. I’m quite content with what I’ve got.” She smiled, and he was relieved to see that it lit up her eyes as well. Perhaps their banter was relaxing her after all. 

Clint reached out towards them, his hands wriggling in a ‘gimmee’ gesture. “My turn.” He caught hold of Natasha’s sleeve and pulled her onto his lap so that he could thoroughly kiss her neck, edging down the neckline of her blouse.

“Clint!” she protested with a laugh. Phil abandoned the spaghetti sauce – it needed to simmer a bit longer anyway – to come up behind her, effectively trapping her on Clint’s lap. He began a similar assault on the back of her neck after sweeping her red curls away. “Damn it, treorai,” she murmured with little heat. “We’ll have guests shortly.”

“I know this is going to come as a terrible surprise to you, Sunshine, but I’m pretty sure they know we have sex,” Clint said in her ear, breath hot against her. She squirmed, which only served to provide delicious friction for Clint.

“That doesn’t mean I want to be in flagrante delicto when they walk in.”

“The door’s locked,” Phil breathed in her other ear, causing her to squirm again. He pressed up against her back, his thighs touching Clint’s, her side solidly against his chest. 

“As if they has ever stopped any of the Scoobies – or Catriona,” Natasha protested, but tilted her head back to give Clint better access to her neck.

“We’re just trying to relax you,” the archer said cheekily. “You’re so tense, you won’t have any fun if you can’t relax.”

“We’ll just have to be fast,” Phil promised, then scooped Natasha up out of Clint’s arms and made for the stairs.

~ * ~

When the triad made it back downstairs, Catriona was sitting calmly on the couch in the living room, a book open across her knees. She looked up at them and her grin was mischievous. “I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”

“Not at all, sis,” Clint assured her, swooping down to plant a kiss on her forehead. “As long as you don’t mind that we weren’t down here to greet you.”

“Of course not.” She smiled fondly, though Clint thought he saw a little wistfulness in the expression. “I am early, after all.”

Phil returned to the kitchen to mind dinner, but Clint sat down on the couch next to Catriona and pulled her closer until he could properly cuddle her. “You’re going to like Sam and Maria,” he promised, naming the only two guests Catriona had yet to meet.

Natasha, rather than joining her husband and deirfiur, was pacing. Her movements took her in a perfect outline of the two air mattresses, but she didn’t appear to realize that she was moving with mechanical precision. 

“Nat’s a little nervous,” Clint whispered to Catriona – loud enough that Natasha could hear.

“I am not,” she retorted shortly. “I just don’t want to disappoint the girls, if this doesn’t go according to plan.”

“That’s an excellent excuse, achara,” Catriona said solemnly. “By all means, we shall do our best not to disappoint Rose and Lily.”

Natasha paused in her pacing to wrinkle her nose at the druid, then startled when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” She opened the door to find Maria shifting from foot to foot, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a sleeping bag under the other. “Hey, Maria.”

“Hey, yourself.” Maria grinned. Already she could see that this Natasha was nothing like Agent Romanoff – and decided this was going to be fun. “There’s bags of various booze in the back of the car, if you want to run and grab it.”

“Sure. Clint! Come show Maria where we’re set up.”

Clint obediently released Catriona and rose to greet Agent Hill – Maria. Catriona trailed behind him, feeling suddenly shy. “We’re in the living room,” Clint said, gesturing. He took the sleeping bag from Maria so that she could shift the bag on her shoulder. “Natasha stretched the niecely decree to include air mattresses.”

“My back thanks her,” Maria said dryly. She looked at Catriona, and tried not to be obvious about the appreciative sweep of eyes from toes to crown. “You must be the White Druid.”

Catriona curtseyed formally. “Lady Catriona O’Clare, the White Druid, at your service.”

Maria felt a blush rising as her mind supplied all sorts of services she wouldn’t mind accepting from the petite redhead. “Agent Maria Hill,” she supplied, hoping her voice didn’t give her away. Catriona didn’t appear to notice, but Clint shot her a sharp glance. “I suppose at a slumber party we should stick with first names, so just call me Maria.”

“And I prefer Catriona,” the druid added, her cheeks dimpling. “Although you will likely hear me refer to people with all manner of nicknames. I am afraid it is a habit I never have broken.”

Clint ruffled her hair. “Long as you know it goes both ways, deirfiur.” Catriona tried to dodge his hand, unable to completely avoid the mussing.

“No manhandling the pixie,” Natasha told him crisply as she set two brown paper bags on the counter. She’d peeked inside and seen Maria had brought quite a variety of alcoholic beverages, including a few that looked utterly girly – and delicious.

“I am not a pixie,” Catriona retorted, stomping one bare foot.

Phil, having been eavesdropping from the kitchen, laughed. “You are, and the whole squad knows it, little one. Even CJ calls you a petite pretty pixie.”

“I’m not sure if I should be glad or disappointed that I don’t have a nickname like that,” Maria admitted. She pulled one of the dining room chairs into the kitchen so she could sit and watch the weird ballet Phil was directing over the food preparations.

“Oh, you’ll wind up with one, I’m sure,” Clint grinned. “If you’re lucky, it won’t be terrible.”

The doorbell rang again and Natasha was halfway to the door before the sound stopped. Phil and Clint exchanged amused glances. Catriona sat on the breakfast stool nearest the wall, content to have Clint as a buffer between her and this new influx of people.

“Goodness, grasshopper, are you moving in?” Phil asked in amazement when he saw the size of the bag Misty was carrying.

“I didn’t figure y’all’d have any board games, so I brought some from home,” Misty answered cheerfully. “And booze, and some movies. And, you know. PJs and whatnot.” She followed Natasha, Sam, and Angie into the living room to drop off most of her stuff, then eyed Maria’s chair. “Smart, Agent Hill.” She slipped into the dining room as well, to liberate the remaining chairs and put them in various places in the kitchen – the only space she didn’t invade was the inner sanctum of the cook.

“I think I’m just Maria, here,” she answered with a small smile. She wasn’t used to being just Maria – she’d worn her title as a protective shield since she’d first donned the uniform of the United States Marine Corps. She shifted in her chair a bit.

“I go by Misty, Buffy, grasshopper, loach beag, or whatever else Clint can think up to annoy me,” Misty answered easily. She could see that the senior agent was tense – not wound as tightly as Natasha, but not relaxed either.

“Sam for me, and please don’t call me Samantha unless I’m in trouble,” Sam added, taking a seat as well. “Damn, AC, Buffy said you could cook – she didn’t say you could COOK.”

“I tried to tell you…” Misty said, spreading her hands wide in innocence.

“And I’m Angie,” the hacker said, nodding to Catriona. “We met briefly in New Mexico, but that was kind of…”

“Chaotic?” Phil supplied mildly.

“I was thinking ‘fucked up’ was more accurate, but wasn’t sure if I should swear around superior officers and a priestess.”

Catriona laughed, a musical sound that filled the room and made Maria grin foolishly. “You need not edit your speech for my sake, bleachtaire. I have heard more profanity and blasphemy in my centuries than you could ever inflict upon me.”

Angie narrowed her eyes. “What’s that mean?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Achara, you’ve got to stop doing that. It means ‘detective,’ Ang. Apparently Catriona’s decided that’s close enough to hacker and researcher extraordinaire.”

“It is,” Catriona said calmly. “She finds facts and puts them together to solve a question. Is that not what a detective does?”

“Now, girls,” Phil chided, but his eyes sparkled.

“Ah. I see.” Angie kicked back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest. “Are you Dad tonight, then?” she asked Phil.

The sudden stillness in the triad halted any more comments. Phil’s hand shot out and Natasha grabbed it immediately, then reached for Clint’s. 

“She meant no harm, treorai, boghdoir, m’inion,” Catriona soothed. “She knows not what lies behind those doors.”

“Um. It’s kind of a record for me to have upset three people in under ten minutes, so can someone like… fill me in so I don’t do it again?” Angie asked quietly.

Natasha forced herself to take a deep breath. “Sorry, Angie. I didn’t – we should have talked about triggers first.”

“No,” Misty said firmly. “I don’t know how many of us have had real slumber parties before – I had a few, before my dad died – but it’s supposed to be fun, not some extended therapy session. We’re all adults, and we’ve all got issues, but that isn’t why we’re here. We’re here to have fun. And if we accidentally trigger something for someone, we’ll apologize and move on. Right?”

“Right,” Angie agreed. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Phil assured her, releasing Natasha’s hand reluctantly. “It’s just a loaded word around here. I am the designated adult, if that’s what you mean – again, per niecely decree.”

Natasha tilted her head. “I thought you weren’t supposed to tell us your instructions?”

“I doubt that counts,” Phil drawled. “It’s not as though me serving as the mature, level-headed person in a group is in anyway unusual.”

Misty snorted. She tried to cover it up, but the laughter bubbled out of her anyway. “Does that mean Clint’s the bratty brother?”

He winced, but nodded. “Yeah. But can you, like, call me anything but brother?”

“You don’t mind when I do it, dhearthair,” Catriona remarked, letting her head rest against Clint.

“You don’t do it in English.”

“Okay. So. Let’s just summarize: all familial terms in English are off-limits – except for Cuz,” Misty amended.

Natasha nodded. That would be… simpler. She didn’t know if she could handle them calling Phil ‘Dad’ ever again. Someday, when he bore that title for real…

Maria stood up from her chair and rummaged in one of the brown paper bags Natasha had brought in. “I need booze. Who wants to try this pink frothy… whatever?”

~ * ~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing fluff is hard. Angst keeps happening. I promise there will be more giggles in later chapters.

Drinks were poured, and conversations resumed. The tension in Phil’s shoulders was still visible to his spouses, but as he chose not to acknowledge it, they agreed not to push.

{So, he’s the responsible adult tonight?} Natasha asked Clint telepathically.

{Better him than me.}

{You going to be okay, being the bratty sibling?} Her concern was genuine, and he caught her eye, smiling reassuringly.

{I’ll manage. I may draw more heavily on Phil’s sisters than on Barney, though. None of you deserve… that.}

Natasha’s eyes met Clint’s. {Niecely decree be damned, if it’s going to hurt you—}

“I’ll be fine, Sunshine,” Clint said aloud, then winced. “Damn. Meant that one to be silent.”

“Is that the forbidden nickname?” Sam asked.

“Nope,” Clint replied, snapping the ‘p’. “And I hope like hell I don’t use it tonight, or I’ll get my ass kicked.”

“I feel like I should be chiding you for language, pretty bird,” Phil said with amusement, offering the archer a wooden spoon of sauce to taste.

Misty attempted to stifle a snicker, and succeeded only in choking on her beer. “Goddess, I’m going to die of the sheer adorableness.”

Phil shot her an amused grin. “Well, we wouldn’t want to kill the grasshopper with adoration, would we?” he asked Clint, who tasted the sauce on the spoon with a glint in his eyes.

“I’m apparently supposed to be annoying tonight, not adorable.”

“I figure you’re talented enough to be both,” Natasha smirked. She was relaxing, he could see – the familiar routine of Phil cooking had settled some of her nerves.

Clint swiveled partway on his stool to look at Catriona, who’d been quiet since she sat down. “You okay there, deirfuir?” It hadn’t escaped his notice that she’d tucked herself away from their guests, or that she’d refused anything stronger than tea.

Catriona felt the curious eyes on her, and nearly made a run for it. When she’d agreed to this, it had been a simple notion – just a social ritual for Natasha, orchestrated by two lovely girls who wanted their Auntie Nat to experience the pieces of childhood she’d missed. Now, she was feeling very much the outsider – almost a stranger, in a home that had as of late been a refuge. She looked up at Clint, making eye contact, hoping he’d understand what she couldn’t say.

He pushed his stool closer to her and gathered her up in one arm, cradling her against his body protectively. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said quietly, low enough that he doubted anyone but Natasha could hear him. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

Misty, who’d seen a flash of panic and longing in Catriona’s eyes, cleared her throat. “So, I told y’all I’ve had a few slumber parties… I know they’re new for Nat and Catriona – how about the rest of you?”

“New to me, too,” Maria said. She met Misty’s eyes long enough to convey her gratitude for the younger blonde’s attempt at conversation. “Military family, we moved too often for me to make close friends.”

“I had them.” Sam sipped some of the pink frothy whatever Maria’d brought. “Hosted some, guest at others. I know the drill.”

Angie plucked at the label of the beer in her hand. “I’ve been to a few, too. So it looks like it’s half rookies, half veterans… and a complete 180 of our normal roles for that.” She grinned. “I could get used to knowing more about a topic than you, Nat.”

Natasha snorted. “Pick any topic from a traditional childhood, and you’ll know more than me. Probably more than Clint. Phil’s the one with anything resembling a normal past.”

“You say that, having met my parents?” Phil asked dryly. 

“So… umm… is talking about family off limits?” Sam asked. “I mean, like can I talk about stuff I did with my sister and whatnot? Or is that… not okay?”

Phil, Clint, and Natasha exchanged long looks, and Clint tightened his arm around Catriona. “It’s okay,” he said. “We probably won’t have much to add, but it isn’t right to ask you to censor yourselves about it, either. Besides. This is supposed to be about building new memories, right Sunshine? And I think replacing some old family memories with new family memories is a damned good idea.”

Natasha rose from her chair and kissed him, lightly, before kissing Catriona on the forehead as well. “Well said, dearling.”

“Hey, no kissy facing,” Misty protested. “Gross.”

Natasha’s eyes went blank for a moment, and then she laughed. “Goddess, you sound just like Rose. Our niece,” she added, at Misty’s confused expression. “Phil’s sister Sarah and her wife Iris adopted twin girls – Rose and Lily – and they’re who I get my fun lessons from.”

“Ohhh, so they’re the masterminds behind the Great Redhead Prank?” Angie asked eagerly.

“No,” Phil corrected, dumping cooked noodles into a strainer. “That one was all Nat. The twins just laid out the parameters. Embarrassment, but no shame. No physical or mental harm, and no threat of disciplinary action.”

“Damn,” Maria breathed. “How old are these girls?”

“Eleven, going on thirty.” Natasha grinned. “You’d like them, Maria.”

“They are charming lasses, to be sure,” Catriona murmured from Clint’s embrace. His touch had comforted her, as usual, and the conversation carrying on had helped even more. “I must admit, I’m a wee bit partial to Lily, though of course Rose is a dear child as well.”

Clint grinned. “Lily’s pretty fond of her Aunt Catriona as well.”

“I think they get the wise-beyond-their-years thing from Iris,” Phil speculated. “They sure didn’t get it from Sarah.”

“Great Mother approves of them,” Catriona added.

Phil shot her a look. “I kind of figured that out when She suggested Nat learn fun from them. But as an uncle, I’d be happier for them to be less noticeable to Her, eh?”

Catriona’s smile was small, but genuine. “Not all who catch Her attention are destined to be Warriors, treorai. I would be quite delighted if She were to see fit to take one or both of them as Acolytes.” 

“Uh… translation for the Muggles?” Misty asked, lifting her hand halfway as she would in a classroom. 

“An Acolyte is a Druid-in-Training,” Catriona supplied. “Not all who accept that role become Druids, many choose to remain as Acolytes – and it has been a number of centuries since She bound Acolytes to Her, but it would be a fine thing, to have students again.” The last she said quietly, almost to herself – but there was no mistaking the wistfulness.

“Dinner’s done,” Phil announced into the quiet. “Grab a plate, noodles, sauce – I suppose there’s no point in thinking we’re actually going to eat at the dining table, is there?”

“Nope,” Misty confirmed with a grin. “You should have made something less spillable, Sensei.”

Phil shook his head at her, stepping out of the way so that their guests could file through the kitchen. “If someone dumps spaghetti all over the living room carpet, it won’t be the first time.”

Clint snickered. “The last one was you,” he reminded Phil, eyes alight.

“You’re the one that broke the no-tickling-around-food rule,” Natasha added, thumping him lightly on the head as she carried her plate into the living room.

“Aw, come on, Nat – it’s not always my fault,” Clint whined.

Sam snorted, tried to cover it, and wound up having to bend over, hands on her knees, wheezing for breath between gales of laughter. “Jesus, Clint, you sound just like my baby brother. If you two ever meet, we’ll have to break out the whine repellant and snark defense.”

Clint sniffed, deliberately looking down his nose at her. “I am not a baby.”

“Neither’s my baby brother – but as he’s four years younger than me, he’ll always be the baby,” Sam retorted. She followed Natasha into the living room and sat cross-legged on one of the mattresses.

“You mentioned a sister before, too – there’s three of you, then?” Natasha asked. The others trailed in, seating themselves on the mattresses as well. Phil and Clint sat on the couch, and Catriona sat near enough to Clint that she could lean against his leg.

“Yup,” Sam agreed, twirling pasta on her fork. “One older sister, one younger brother. I’m the middlest sib.”

“At least you don’t have my middle sister’s inferiority complex,” Phil said with a sigh. “Megan is… challenging.”

“Not as much as that husband of hers.” Natasha shuddered. “I damned near drew a knife on him in your mother’s kitchen.”

“In your defense, it was right during your Yule symptoms.”

Natasha glared at him, though there wasn’t any heat to it. “That’s an explanation, not an excuse.”

“So you’ve got three sisters?” Misty redirected, looking at Phil. “If the evil one is the middle, I assume there’s one above and one below?”

“Yes,” Phil agreed, smiling. Clint, who was leaning against him, felt more tension bleed out of his body. “Darla, Megan, and Sarah. Between them I’ve got a dozen nieces and nephews, too.”

“And they’re freaking adorable,” Angie added. “I saw a photo on Clint’s phone.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, looking down to where Clint leaned against him. “Sharing family photos, pretty bird?”

“Lance started it!” Clint protested. “He showed me one of his family, and it looked… a lot like yours, so I showed it to him. And it was during my Litha symptoms, so if Nat gets a pass on wanting to kill Derek, I should get one for wanting to show off our family.”

It took Phil a moment to answer, and if they’d been alone he’d have let the tears tightening his throat fall. “You don’t need one for that,” Phil managed.

{Oh crap. What did I say? I broke Phil,} Clint shot to Natasha’s mind.

“Our family,” Natasha repeated, and met Clint’s confused gaze. “Not Phil’s. Ours.”

“Hey! I thought I said no extended therapy session!” Misty protested, and finding no other weapon at hand, launched one of her socks at Natasha.

For half a breath, nobody moved. Natasha let the sock hit her in the shoulder, looking down at it blankly. Then mischief lit up her face. “You really don’t want to start a sock fight with me, grasshopper. I got lessons in snowball fights from the pros.”

“Now, girls,” Phil said, in an exaggeratedly tired tone.

Natasha giggled. She didn’t even know her body was capable of it, but there was no other way to describe the sound that escaped her.

The surprise on her face made Misty laugh, and soon all six women were giggling madly, trying to keep from spilling spaghetti everywhere (and mostly succeeding).

Angie was the first to recover, wiping away tears of laughter with the sleeve of her shirt. “Oh God, I haven’t laughed that hard in years.”

“I don’t think I ever have,” Natasha admitted, slipping one arm around Catriona’s waist as they settled back down. 

“Nor I,” Catriona agreed. Her tone was still subdued, and Nat could feel a faint tremor in the slender body.

Misty, who was nearly as observant as Lance but much less likely to voice her observations, saw a flicker of emotion across Maria’s face that she couldn’t place. She was debating whether to address it or not when Phil looked down over the edge of the couch at Natasha’s mostly uneaten plate and frowned.

“Love, you’ve got to eat more than that,” he chided.

Natasha’s shoulders hunched. “I’m saving room for junk food. Rose said that since I don’t have a favorite, I should try everything and pick one.”

“You don’t have a favorite junk food?” Sam repeated in shock.

“Not that counts, according to my nieces.” Natasha squeezed Catriona a little closer. “I like some – I mean, I’ve tried most everything Clint buys – ”

“Usually right off my plate,” he chimed in.

“ – but I don’t really have a preference. Which is apparently just another way in which I’m abnormal,” she sighed.

“You are not abnormal,” Phil said firmly. There were murmurs of agreement.

“I don’t have a favorite either,” Angie admitted quietly. “I wasn’t – allowed to try much, growing up. So maybe we can figure it out together?”

Natasha met the hacker’s gaze. “Weren’t allowed?” And though she tried to stomp it down, her protectiveness rose until it blazed out her eyes.

“Nat,” Phil said, reaching down to put a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Angie soothed, though her shoulders had hunched as well. “Can you turn down the mad factor though, Nat? It’s over and done with.”

Natasha took a deep breath and closed her eyes. {This isn’t how I meant the subject to come up,} she complained to Clint.

{I know, Sunshine.} Clint twisted until he could hook one leg over Catriona’s shoulder and an arm on Natasha’s free shoulder. {You’re scaring the children.}

She opened her eyes and took in the room, realizing he was right – again – damn it. “I’m sorry.” She pressed into her husbands’ touch, into Catriona. “I’m not mad at you, Ang. It’s… I just… feel…”

“Maternal?” Misty supplied softly. Natasha met her gaze before nodding.

“If we’re really going to talk about families, I’m going to need more booze,” Maria added, in a tone that was intended to be funny but fell flat.

“Can’t really ignore the elephant in the room, can we?” Phil sighed. “Alright. Just like a band-aid. Three sentences each to summarize your family issues, and then they’re all out in the open. I’ll go first. I have a close relationship with my parents, though my father can be carelessly rude. I adore all my nieces and nephews. I struggle being around my middle sister Megan or her husband Derek.” He squeezed Natasha’s shoulder with one hand, Clint’s hand with the other. “Your turn, pretty bird.”

Clint opened his mouth to answer, but didn’t speak for a long moment. “I love my sister-in-law and her two kids, but I’d prefer not to be related to my brother Barney. Our parents were killed when I was a kid, and he convinced me to run away to the circus. I went, because I thought foster dads would be just like our dad, and beat the crap out of us for breathing.” He blew out a breath. “Sunshine?”

“My mother named me Natalia. My father gave me to the Red Room.” Both these sentences were emotionless, but her voice cracked on the third. “Now I’m building my own family.”

“Fuck, how is anyone supposed to follow that?” Misty grumbled, then sighed. “I’m an only child. My life was really average until my dad was killed when I was twelve. Mom… went off the rails of the crazy train, and never got back on.” She pointed at Sam.

“My father is a doctor, my mother is a lawyer, my brother is a doctor, and my sister is an anthropologist. I’m a disappointment to them, because they think I use my body more than my brain. And I have no room to complain, but I still gripe about it.” Sam looked down at her empty plate, curly brown hair falling forward to hide her face. 

“I have no blood kin left in this world,” Catriona volunteered into the quiet. “I thought myself alone until two stubborn Warriors decided to bind me with ties of kinship chosen, rather than borne. I hope that, at some point, I will meet my achroi ghra and know the same happiness I see in them.”

Maria traded glances with Angie before speaking next. “My mother died in childbirth. My dad remarried, and she never liked me. The Marine Corps was my family for a long time, but I think that’s changing.”

Last, somehow, Angie rubbed at her forehead. “I was a pageant kid, up through high school. My mother treated me like a show dog, and my father treated me like a prized stallion. The hacking job that got me on SHIELD’s radar was me creating a new identity to get the fuck away from them.”

The silence that settled in the room was… different. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward; it wasn’t unnatural or strained. It was just… quiet.

Phil cleared his throat, making no effort to hide his emotional reaction. “Right. That’s enough adulting out of all of you tonight. I’ve been threatened with grave bodily harm if Natasha does not have fun tonight, so let’s just…” he stood, gathering plates. “Let’s pour more drinks, break out the chocolate, and put on a movie.”

~ * ~


	6. Chapter 6

When the dishes had been cleared, glasses refilled, and the argument about what movie to watch was fully underway, Phil escaped to the kitchen under the pretext of cleaning up.

He did put away the leftover food, fill the sink with soapy water and begin scrubbing down the implements he’d used. He wound up just standing in the kitchen, looking out over the backyard, trying to find the imperturbable Agent Coulson facade. 

None of what had been said was unknown to him. He’d had the facts, read the backgrounds – as Agent Coulson.

He didn’t realize how thoroughly he’d compartmentalized Agent Coulson from Phil until he’d sat on the couch, stunned, as facts he’d already known hit him like body blows.

Goddess, they were all hurting, and he didn’t know how to fix it. His whole life had been a pursuit of ‘what’s wrong, how can I fix it?’ and now, when the people mattered the most, he had no idea what to do.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand rested on his forearm. Immediately, Phil covered Catriona’s hand with his own soapy one, wordlessly grateful she had sought him out.

“It is well, that they – we – have you,” Catriona told him quietly. “I see in your eyes the need to heal them, treorai, just as one would see in mine were their wounds physical. I would remind you, though, that while we have you – you have us as well.” 

“Thank you, little one.” He leaned far enough to the side to press a fond, chaste kiss onto her forehead. “Did you follow me for my own sake, or to get away from the horde?”

“Both,” Catriona admitted, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I had forgotten what a clan – family – gathering can be like, when there are no bairns – children – present. There is always a different tone when there are young ones about… an unspoken agreement to leave certain matters out of the conversation.”

Phil regarded her thoughtfully. “Christmas at the Inn really that much different?”

“A great deal, yes.” She sighed. “Perhaps it was that I was not the only stranger to your family.”

“You aren’t a stranger here either, little one.” He squeezed her hand where it still rested on his forearm. 

“I feel as though I am,” she admitted, almost too quietly for him to hear.

“You’re the only other person who has slept here,” Phil pointed out. “When my sisters were younger, the friend who had spent the most nights at your house was usually your best friend, and might even laud that over lesser friends.”

“I would thank you not to compare me to Megan.” She sniffed derisively, though her expression was softer. “I did not think of that, treorai. You are right, as usual.” She managed – by stretching up on her toes – to plant a kiss on his cheek. “They are not strangers, but friends of my achara.”

“Exactly.” Phil smiled at her, and would have ruffled her hair if his hands weren’t soapy. “Go on, back out there before they break out in fisticuffs over what to watch.”

Laughing, Catriona obeyed. When she reentered the living room, there was indeed a fierce debate afoot – though she saw no signs that it had progressed to violence. She sank back into a cross-legged position between Natasha and Misty.

“I’m just saying, I think a comedy is more appropriate,” Clint repeated for at least the fourth time. Natasha heaved a sigh.

“This is a girl’s party, Clint. We’re not going to watch one of your stupid slapstick movies.” She glared at him. “I don’t have to turn on a movie to see a man making an ass out of himself.”

Misty snickered. “Nice one, Nat.”

“Thank you, grasshopper,” she acknowledged regally.

“Aw, come on. I don’t want to watch some sappy romance,” Clint whined. “Can’t we at least watch something with a battle in it?”

“Nobody said you had to watch it with us,” Maria pointed out, and wasn’t surprised when his response was to stick his tongue out at her.

“Real mature, Clint,” Natasha muttered. “Fine.” She scanned her eyes over the meticulously organized DVD collection again. “Fellowship of the Ring. Final offer.”

“Sold.” Clint scrambled up from the couch, plucked the case from the shelf and loaded the DVD into the player.

“Lord of the Rings?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

Natasha’s smile was equal parts fondness and mischief. “Phil’s a nerd.”

“I am not a nerd,” he called from the kitchen. “I am a man with refined tastes.” Clint and Natasha had mouthed his reply in unison, which made their guests break out in laughter. He appeared in the doorway with a hand towel, scowling with mock ferocity at them. “Leave my taste in media alone, or I’ll start talking about your guilty pleasures.”

Natasha bit her lip. That wasn’t playing fair. She did not really want the female Scoobies – or Maria – to know that she enjoyed Antiques Roadshow and My Little Pony with equal fascination.

{They won’t hear it from me,} Clint promised cheerfully. {Phil may out you as a Brony, but I sure as hell won’t.}

{How can I be a brony when I’m not a bro? And don’t start with me, mister, or someone’s going to find out how many hours you spend watching This Old House.}

“Agents…” Phil chided – and just as it had in New Mexico, coming from his mouth it sounded just like ‘Children’. “No arguing, please.”

Clint made a rude noise, which caused Angie to let out a noise that was more cackle than chuckle. “How the fuck did you know they were arguing?”

“They’ve each got a tell – and I’m not sharing,” Phil answered calmly, though his eyes were twinkling. “Besides, I know them well enough to know exactly what they’re saying to each other, too.”

“Don’t – ” they began to protest in unison, then joined in the general laughter.

Maria picked up her drink – the pink frothy whatever proved to be some form of strawberry drink that had enough alcohol content to make up for the sexist packaging – and studied it. She wished she’d spent more time socializing outside of SHIELD – she was on unfamiliar ground, and that never sat well with her. She hoped she was fooling the Scoobies – she doubted she was fooling the rest of them.

“Hey.” Misty’s quiet summons drew her attention to the squad leader, ignoring for a moment the banter continuing around them. “It’s okay not to have a plan. It’s a party, not an op.”

“You a mind reader, too?” Maria shot back, then shook her head. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“What, you thought Sensei picked me for squad leader for my looks?” Misty asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve got mad people skills. Nearly as good at reading micro expressions as he is, and being trained by the master. I’d be a poor testament to his teaching methods if I couldn’t pick out what’s bothering you.”

They were speaking in undertones, the closest to privacy that could be had in a room of eight people. “Sorry.” Maria sighed. “I know you’ve got skills, which is why I tried to poach you for my team, but…” she shook her head again. “No matter who I’d land, it wouldn’t turn into this. I don’t… have much experience at this kind of…” she gestured with her drink, mindful not to splash it, “camaraderie. The Corps discourages this kind of bond and so does SHIELD.”

“Well, yeah,” Misty replied. “What we’re doing is stupid, potentially dangerous, and not something I’d trade for all the tea in China.” Maria’s shocked eyes met her own. “Those anti-fraternization rules exist for legit reasons, and even if the triad weren’t… triading… I don’t know about you, but I crossed over from coworker to family a while ago.” It was Misty’s turn to gaze into her drink. “Shocked the hell out of me, and scared me. Still scares me. Realizing I don’t actually know how far I’d go to protect any one of them, but that it’s a damned sight farther than I’d go for any other SHIELD agent.”

Maria felt a band ease around her chest and breathed deeply. “Yeah. I’d gotten the fear part,” she added wryly. “I hadn’t caught on to the rest.”

“What are you two over here gossiping about?” Natasha demanded, distracted from her own conversation to focus on Misty and Maria.

“Adulting,” Misty told her calmly, though with a smile. “Which Sensei tells me has no place here tonight, so we were totally not doing it where people could hear. Right Maria?”

“Right,” she agreed immediately, then wondered why it was so easy to let Misty answer for her. Oh, fuck it, she thought, and drained her glass. I’ve done enough introspection tonight. “I’m going to change into my PJs.” She reached for her bag and extracted a pair of yellow plush lounge pants printed with ducks, and a white t-shirt that read ‘Just Ducky.’ With a half-embarrassed grin, she also removed a pair of fluffy slippers that matched.

“Those are adorable,” Clint remarked, and though she’d feared teasing, there was none in his tone. Instead, his head was tilted to one side, regarding her pajamas thoughtfully. “Where did you get those? I’d love to send Laura a pair for Christmas.”

Maria let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and smiled. “I’ll email you the link. Where can I change?”

“Botheration, are we going to be modest?” Catriona protested, reaching out her hands for a mass of green fabric that Natasha had extracted from a nearby basket. “Whatever for?”

“Mixed company?” Sam offered.

Catriona sniffed. “Nonsense. It’s not as though treorai or boghdoir are going to make advances on anyone – except their achroi ghra.” she corrected with a quick smile at Natasha.

Maria had paused, ducky pajamas in hand, to look at the druid in surprise. “I was being discreet and thoughtful,” she said after a fortifying breath. “Or I was trying. Not everyone is comfortable changing with a…”

The druid rose to her full height of four and a half feet and crossed her arms across her chest. “And what, pray tell, are you implying, Mistress Hill?”

“Crap,” Natasha muttered. “That’s never good.”

Misty stood as well, not actually stepping between them but with her hands outstretched in both directions. “Squad leader intervention.” At Maria’s snort, Misty realized that technically, neither Maria nor Catriona were members of her squad and therefore not under her leadership, but she bowled forward anyway. “Catriona, not everyone in this room is heterosexual, and not everyone is in a committed relationship.”

“And…?” Catriona prompted, with genuine confusion on her face.

“And normally female agents go a hell of a long way out of their way to avoid being in the changing room with me,” Maria said, not making eye contact.

“Oh.” That pained sound came not from Catriona, but from Phil – and Maria’s eyes flashed to his. “I had no idea. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I already got discharged from the Corps for it, did you think I’d out myself at SHIELD voluntarily?” she snapped.

“Whoa, wait.” Misty held her hands up again, feeling kind of like she was trying to hold back the tides. “You got booted for DADT?”

“Will someone explain to me what any of this has to do with changing clothes!” The sharp demand from Catriona rang out, and without realizing it, all the occupants in the room were on their feet in defensive postures before she’d finished speaking. “Please,” she added, her voice dropping back to its normal tones.

Phil, Natasha, and Clint exchanged a long look. “Clint, would you take Catriona upstairs to change in our bedroom, please, and have a conversation with her? Maria, if you would follow me to the kitchen?” Both requests were delivered in Agent Coulson’s smooth cadence, but there were layers to his voice that they did not hear in the field. “Natasha, if you would stay here with your other guests?”

Clint took Catriona’s hand in his and tugged until she followed him up the stairs. Only when the hem of her robe was no longer visible did Phil offer his hand to Maria, the gesture at the kitchen when she shook her head at him. He followed, sliding shut a pocket door she hadn’t noticed and didn’t think was used often, making the kitchen more private. “I’m sorry, Maria,” he said in the same calm tone, but there was pain in his eyes that she didn’t expect.

“Don’t be.” She turned her back on him, woodenly stripping off her clothes and donning the ridiculous outfit. Even as she shoved her feet into the slippers, she regretted packing them. “There’s nothing you could do.”

“Like hell,” he murmured. She looked over her shoulder in his direction, but he was gazing out the window. “If I’d been open with you about myself, you wouldn’t have felt you needed to carry a burden alone.”

Maria folded her discarded garments neatly, though her hands were shaking. “I don’t expect help, Coulson.”

The breath wheezed out of him as though she’d struck him with a fist. “I know you don’t. Please, call me Phil – especially when you’ve been nearly naked in my kitchen.” That startled her into facing him, and he looked over to meet her gaze with a small, sad smile. “You aren’t the only DADT refugee, you know,” he offered quietly. “SHIELD picked up quite a few agents thanks to that asinine legislation.”

“You one of them?” she asked, with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

“No.” He paused. “Ken was.”

Maria’s eyes widened. “Ken Price? Agent Price?”

“You shared a burden with me, Maria, so I will share one with you,” Phil replied, and very quietly told her the tale of forbidden liaisons, broken regulation, and betrayal. He didn’t pause, once he’d begun speaking, because he knew that if he did he would be unable to finish.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked when he stopped speaking.

Phil sighed, reached into a kitchen canister and began making himself a cup of tea. “So that you would understand why I’m apologizing, for not wanting to see the blatant discrimination. I let my fear make that decision. It cost me years with my loves – and it’s cost you as well.” Stunned, she stood silent as he measured tea, poured water, and added sugar. “Natasha will be very upset with me if I’ve broken you,” he murmured, just a hint of humor coloring his tone.

It was enough, and she sagged against the counter, tension leaving her as quickly as it had built. “Damn it, Phil. I didn’t expect you to be some kind of… gay martyr,” Maria protested. “I don’t care what the rest of SHIELD thinks.”

“You care what the people in this house think?” he surmised, one eyebrow raised. “And, I presume, the rest of the Scoobies.” She nodded. “I can’t speak for the others, but I think that you are adorable in those pajamas, that you’re a dear friend, and that I’m very sorry that we’ve upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Maria deflected, but was interrupted by a voice at the door.

~ * ~

“Clint, stop pulling at me,” Catriona snapped. He released her hand once they were in the master bedroom, closing the door behind them. Catriona immediately dropped her white robe to the ground and reached for the green silk pajamas in his hands.

“Forgetting something?” he prompted, and she scowled at him. He handed her a pair of green briefs, which she slid into before donning the pajamas. “Can you stop scowling long enough for me to explain?”

“Please.”

Clint scrubbed his hands through his hair and leaned his back against the closed door. “Maria’s gay. I know Misty’s bi – I don’t know about Angie or Sam, and I don’t intend to ask. Maria was kicked out of the Marine Corps – that family she mentioned that might be changing? – because of a policy called ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ that allowed the military to quietly get rid of gay and lesbian service members. There are… a lot… of female agents who are uncomfortable around her, because they think she’ll hit on them. Make advances,” he corrected.

“Does she think that I would be uncomfortable for that reason?” Catriona asked. Her fury, as incandescent as it had been, died out and was replaced by a sympathetic ache.

“Sis.” He reached out for her hands, pulling her close against him so that he could bury his face in her hair. “I’m pretty sure Maria’s the one that’s uncomfortable about her sexuality. I’m also pretty sure it’s because she finds you attractive, and doesn’t know what to do about it. I kind of guessed you were her taste – I showed her a picture of the family at the Inn, and she couldn’t take her eyes off you.” He stroked her hair, hoping it was as comforting to receive as it was to do. “Nat’s already yelled at me for trying to play matchmaker.”

“Is she that unhappy with herself?” The question was so soft that Clint barely heard her, and his arms tightened.

“I think she is. I’m sorry, sis. I should have… well, I should have kept my nose out of it, as my wife is telling me. And nose isn’t the only body part she’s named.” That made her laugh, though it was weak. “If you don’t want to go back down there, you can stay up here with me and Phil. Nat informs me that I will not be allowed back into the girls only club until I can think without involving male organs.”

Her laughter was stronger that time, and she pushed gently away from him to sweep her hair out of her face. “No. I do not wish Mistress Hill – Maria – to think that I flee from her.” She shook her head. “For as often as I have seen fear and hatred, scorn and shame, you would think that I would no longer be surprised by it.”

“I’m kind of glad you are,” Clint told her, kissing her gently on the forehead. “If you can still see good, maybe the world isn’t going to hell in a handbasket.”

She caught his hand, squeezing it, then nodded at the door. He stepped out of the way, and she descended the stairs, making directly for the kitchen.

~ * ~

“He may not have upset you, laoch scail, but I surely have.” Catriona stepped barefooted into the kitchen, nodding to Phil. “It seems that we should have held this somewhat closer to Litha, as it’s coming to resemble the Bard’s tale of a Midsummer Night’s Dream in its misunderstandings.”

Maria made a noise – Phil thought it was probably supposed to be a laugh – and sat down on the floor in the kitchen, heedless of her ducky slippers, and looked up at Catriona. “I think we upset each other.”

“Diplomatic way to put it,” Catriona agreed, gliding close enough to touch Phil’s arm gently. “Go on up, treorai. Clint’s in a pother about this, and he’s been banned from the gathering for the night. Take care of him for me, will you?”

“Of course.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and disappeared. Catriona pulled the pocket door closed behind him and sank onto the kitchen floor across from Maria.

“That was well done,” Maria remarked. “About the only thing that would have gotten him out of this kitchen.”

Catriona’s smile was hesitant, a little shy. “I know. They are… protective of me. Part of it is the Goddess bond – a Warrior’s duty is to protect – and part of it is love.”

“I envy that.” Maria forced herself to say the words.

“How so?”

Maria met her eyes, looking for any hint of condescension or condemnation and, finding none, swallowed before speaking. “You hear you’re unlovable often enough, you start to believe it.” Catriona made a motion towards her and Maria shook her head. “I’m not good at… touching, casual touching.”

“You can learn.”

Tipping her head back against the cabinet, Maria laughed humorlessly. “You really are an eternal optimist, aren’t you?”

“I have to be.” The solemnity of her voice drew Maria’s eyes and Catriona met and held them. “I’ve been waiting twenty-three centuries to find love and a family, laoch scail. My Goddess has promised me such, and I have faith in Her. As treorai – Phil – pointed out to me once, it is unlikely that my heartmate will be love at first sight. The bonds between the three of them grew over years of trust. So… I have allowed myself to make true friends, to tie myself in kinship to those I am likely to outlive… with just hope and faith to guide me. I do not know if the thread between us will grow to anything more than kinship, but that does not mean that I do not welcome your friendship.”

In a desperate bid to keep from tearing up at that, Maria seized on the Gaelic words. “What’s that mean? What you’re calling me?”

Catriona blinked. “My apologies, Mistress – Maria. It means, approximately, shadowed warrior – for while I see you do not hesitate into battle, you fight your shadows alone.”

“Okay.” Maria nodded, digesting that. “I… I can handle that. I mean, you calling me that. It’s like one of Clint’s nicknames, isn’t it?”

“Very much,” Catriona agreed, and a smile bloomed on her face. “Does that mean that you have forgiven me, for upsetting you?”

“You never needed forgiving.” Maria levered herself up off the floor and offered Catriona a hand. The druid took it without hesitation and rose to her feet. “Damn, you really are a petite pretty pixie.”

Catriona sighed with dramatic patience, winked at Maria to show she was teasing, and slid the pocket door open to rejoin her clan.

~ * ~


	7. Chapter 7

Natasha and the three Scoobies were sitting cross-legged on one of the air mattresses, expressions solemn but not distressed. All four had changed into pajamas – Natasha had chosen the purple set that matched Catriona’s green silk ones – and looked up at Catriona’s reentrance with questions in their eyes.

“All is well,” Catriona assured them, folding herself gracefully next to Natasha and reaching one hand to the assassin, almost without thinking about it.

Misty raised an eyebrow at Maria, who nodded and joined them on the mattress, self-conscious that her movements weren’t as smooth as Catriona’s. Maria had chosen a spot that left her enough room not to brush up against anyone, but no sooner was she seated than Misty unfolded her legs and propped her feet up against Maria’s leg, and Angie flopped onto her stomach and let one elbow poke into Maria’s other side. She realized, looking around the room, that they were all touching somewhere – not intimately or obtrusively, but in a conscious connection. She looked down at Misty’s feet and lightly laid her hand on one ankle. The grin she got from Misty made the nasty, insecure voice in her head quiet.

“I called Sarah, while you two were… busy,” Natasha said, looking from Maria to Catriona. “The twins’ mom. Asked her if she had any grown-up instructions to add that might make this… less…”

“Prone to angst?” Misty offered with a grin.

“Yeah.” Natasha held Catriona’s hand on one side, the other hand wrapped lightly around Sam’s bare ankle. “Um. I hope you don’t mind. That I needed…”

“Nat, I’m not going to give you crap over gathering intel for a mission,” Maria said, with a perfectly straight face, and then let a smile bloom. “I don’t mind.”

“Sarah said having Clint and Phil down here might not be helping, since I tend to get distracted…”

“Achara, when they are in the room, your eyes are drawn to them as a hummingbird to nectar,” Catriona said fondly, squeezing Natasha’s hand. “There is nothing wrong with that.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I know that, but it does mean I’m not giving the rest of you my full attention. That wouldn’t be a thing, if we were actually the twins’ age. At least – Goddess, I hope not.” She looked concerned at the idea.

Misty laughed. “They’re what, twelve? No, they might get dizzy over a boy or girl at this age, but I think it’s fair to say they’re unlikely to be as tied up to someone as you are to Sensei and Cuz.”

“Few are,” Catriona added quietly, squeezing Natasha’s hand. “So, you’ve removed the distraction of your achroi ghra – what other wisdom did Sarah have for us?”

“More booze, more junk food, and nail polish.”

Angie grinned. “I’m game for all three. Plus, we’ve got that assignment to pick a favorite, right Nat?”

“May I participate in that as well?” Catriona asked. “I am not familiar with most of the modern options.”

Natasha squeezed Catriona’s hand. “Always, achara.”

Maria turned her head, slightly, feeling a pinch of emotion she didn’t want to analyze. Misty caught her eye and wiggled her toes against Maria’s thigh. Maria squeezed Misty’s ankle in response. “I brought polish, too,” Misty said with a grin, pointing at her bag. “Ang, you’re closest… blue plastic box on the left, biggest compartment.” Angie extracted the box and passed it across the mattress to Misty. “Catriona, you’re the only one here that can wear nail polish and not be breaking SHIELD regs… you want toes and fingers, or just toes?”

“I would think that fingers would impede my ability to consume junk food,” Catriona answered thoughtfully. “I believe I will stick with toes.”

“Right on.” Misty opened the container and started rifling through colors. “What color you want, Maria?” She guessed that the senior agent wouldn’t be comfortable with many people touching her feet, but she seemed to tolerate Misty’s feet against her, so maybe she could tolerate Misty painting her toes.

“Um.” Maria leaned closer to peer into the box. “I have no idea.”

Misty extracted a bottle of sunshine yellow that matched the ducks on Maria’s pajamas. “Feel like wearing your duckies around for a while?”

“Sure, what the hell,” Maria agreed, pulling off her slippers.

Shortly they’d paired off, three girls on paint duty as the other three sat carefully. Natasha was putting gold meticulously on Catriona’s toes while Angie put neon green on Sam’s. They were silent for a few moments as they settled into it, but conversation eventually resumed.

“So… who proposed to who?” Angie asked, her face intent on Sam’s toes.

Natasha raised an eyebrow but didn’t object to the question. “It was Clint’s idea to get rings. It’s not a legal marriage, as you can imagine… though we have the Goddess’s blessing.”

“I should have figured it was Cuz,” Misty grumbled. “Where does he hide all that romantic crap away? Like, I’d never even seen him be smooth with a girl, and then he turns out to be this… fairytale worthy sentimentalist.”

“Probably the same place I hide mine, grasshopper,” Natasha said mildly, and Misty blushed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to – ”

“Ohhhh, Misty… you’re blushing…” Sam sing-songed. “Last time you blushed, it was over a girl…”

“Don’t you dare, Samantha,” Misty shot back, and the look that accompanied her words had no amusement in it. The girl in question had been Catriona, and Misty had no intention of adding to the druid’s discomfort.

Maria was looking at Misty with wide eyes. “I didn’t know you were…”

“Bi,” Misty filled in, then to Catriona explained, “Bisexual. Attracted to both male and female.”

“I did actually know that one,” the druid said wryly. “Or did you think the triad’s relationship was scandalous to me?” Natasha snorted. “We did not use words such as that, where I was raised – it was just… natural. One’s heartmate may be a man or a woman, or both, and that is just as Gaia wills it. I shall not cast doubt on Her choices.”

“Since we’re laying it all out on the carpet, I’ll say I’m completely straight,” Sam said with a sigh. “Which means the only part I don’t like about your triad, Nat, is that you get two incredibly gorgeous men, and I still have none.”

Natasha laughed. “They have their drawbacks.”

“I think I’m straight,” Angie added, causing all eyes to draw on her. “Well, I haven’t had much experience. Never fallen for a girl, but I’ve only dated two guys, so… not much of a sample size.”

“That’s rather where I am,” Catriona agreed with a sigh. “It is likely that my heart mate will be male, as the Great Mother has spoken of my bearing children, but I have not felt attraction towards anyone that would allow me to easily classify it.”

“There are other ways to have kids, you know,” Misty added in the silence. “Just because you’re supposed to be a mother, it doesn’t necessarily follow that your mate will be male.” She squeezed Maria’s ankle where she’d grasped it – ostensibly to steady the older woman’s toes.

“I know.” Catriona sighed. “I am just… tired of waiting.”

Natasha looked up at her sharply. “You’re not thinking of doing something foolish, are you?”

“No,” Catriona reassured her, leaning forward to run a hand over Natasha’s hair. “I would not do that to you, or boghdoir, or treorai.” Then she glanced around. “I wouldn’t do that to my clan.”

“Good,” Natasha said firmly.

Maria was looking at Catriona now with a different eye – an agent’s eye. If the petite woman had been an agent under Maria’s command, she’d have thought the druid was experiencing burn out.

Catriona caught her appraising eye and smiled. “I am quite all right, Maria.” It was a tiny but meaningful personal victory for Maria that Catriona hadn’t lapsed back into call her Mistress Hill. “Natasha is merely being overprotective. I have lived this long with only the support of the Great Mother, laoch scail – how can I be less than improved, with so many now to call kin?”

“Warrior what?” Misty asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Shadowed warrior,” Catriona translated, after seeing Maria’s small nod of acceptance.

“So I’m the only one left without a cool druid nickname?” Sam pouted dramatically. “How rude.”

Natasha chuckled. “Just wait. One will come to her.” She pinched Catriona’s ankle gently. “She can’t seem to help it.”

Catriona debated telling them – she gnawed on her lip, watching Natasha meticulously polish her toes, and decided that if nothing else, these women would not belittle her for it. “It is something I picked up from Great Mother,” she told them, voice very soft. “No two druids – or Warriors – are ever referred to by Gaia by the same name. She gives each of us something unique, a combination of words or names that is ours alone, from Her to Her Chosen.” Catriona’s fingers twitched. “I… have known a great many people in my years, but the names that I give each of you are yours alone.”

Unexpectedly, Natasha felt her love for the druid overwhelm her. She carefully capped the bottle of polish and, careful not to smudge her, crawled up to where she could wrap her arms around Catriona’s shoulders and hold her firmly. She didn’t speak – wasn’t entirely certain she could.

“Hey. It’s rude to ignore your other friends and only favor your bestie,” Sam protested with a mock pout.

“Sister,” Natasha corrected automatically.

“Deirfiur,” Catriona agreed.

“Freaking saps, the both of you,” Misty grumbled, but she was smiling. “I gotta admit, I like it when y’all call me nicknames. Even Buffy. It’s… this is going to sound as corny as Clint when he’s in a mood but, it feels like a verbal hug.”

Angie grinned. “We haven’t had enough alcohol for you to blame that one on drunkenness, Buff. But you’re right. It does feel good.”

“My instructions say we have to play a game so… how about we tell each other the worst nickname we’ve ever been called?” Natasha offered. At several pale expressions, she clarified, “The nickname we hated the most, not the one that was rudest.”

“Salmon,” Sam said immediately. “My sibs started it, and it carried on through high school. God, I hated that name. You’ll never see me wear anything close to that color, either, because it’s just… no.” She shuddered. “My sister put some actual salmon in my locker once, stunk up the whole hallway for hours.”

Angie bit her lip. “Um. I don’t have any nicknames I hate with this name. But… it isn’t the one I was born with. I… um… when I ran away, I changed it.”

“You don’t have to tell us,” Misty assured her immediately. “You can if you want, but no one’s going to be offended if you can’t, or aren’t ready.”

Angie flashed her squad leader a grateful look. “I do want to. It’s just… well. I haven’t actually told it to anyone since I became Angela Grace Edwards.” Her eyes returned to Sam’s toes. “Ava Maria.”

“Okay, that’s just cruel,” Maria said. “That’s… damn, Angie.”

“I know.” Angie meticulously coated the next toe. “Even if I hadn’t run away, I’m pretty sure I would have changed it. And of course, with a name like that, every single damned pageant had me playing that damned song on whatever instrument was hot at the time.”

Catriona raised an eyebrow. “You play more than one?”

“Oh, yeah. Anything in brass or woodwinds, and I’m not bad on piano,” Angie answered distractedly, trying to repair a slight smear on one toe. “How about you, Catriona?”

The druid paused, cuddling closer to Natasha. “Does a title count?”

“What, like a rank?” Misty asked.

“Rather, one of a half dozen appropriate titles to use to refer to my position, but the one which causes me distress.”

“I’d say it counts,” Maria said, and there were general noises of agreement.

“Most Revered Mother Superior,” Catriona said, and her nose wrinkled. “It is unwieldy and inaccurate. I am neither a mother nor superior. I am my Goddess’s high priestess, but it is a position of responsibility, not of superiority.”

“Who calls you that?” Natasha asked casually.

Catriona elbowed her sharply. “You just want to know so that you can put the fear of M’inion in him. No. It is a fellow druid, but you need not know who.”

“Can’t blame me for trying.” Natasha released the druid and scooted back down to where she could continue the pedicure. “There was an agent who used to call me Charlotte. Like, from the book? Charlotte’s web? It bothered me, but I didn’t say anything.”

“What happened?” Angie prompted.

Natasha’s smile was equal parts fond and vicious. “Phil happened. Heard the agent call me that in the mess one day, and… well, let’s just say that agent got a very good demonstration of why Phil is treated like he’s larger than life. He spent two weeks in the med bay before he got transferred out.” Natasha’s grin turned feral. “Phil didn’t even take off his tie. Told the agent if he was going to ‘denigrate’ Phil’s agents, he could earn the privilege in the ring. Cocky bastard thought that Phil’s desk job meant he didn’t have the skills to back it up.”

“Oh, man,” Misty breathed. “Oh, please tell me there’s video.”

“Hell yeah,” Natasha said, her grin spreading even wider. “What, you mean you didn’t get the Coulson briefing when you started?”

“There’s a Coulson briefing?” Angie repeated blankly.

Natasha laughed, and there was genuine and relaxed amusement in the tone. “I thought for sure Maria’d have given it to you – we didn’t dare, considering how closely Phil was watching.”

“And here I thought you gave it,” Maria replied, equally amused. “Well, I can give you the abbreviated version now.” All three Scoobies nodded eagerly, and Catriona looked curious. “Rule number one for working under Agent Coulson – don’t talk smack about Agents Barton or Romanoff.”

“Rule number two… if for some reason you earn the wrath of Barton or Romanoff, don’t think Coulson will protect you,” Natasha continued, her eyes twinkling now.

“Rule three. If Coulson says be available, what he means is that you must be able to appear in his presence in under fifteen minutes. Sleep in your clothes. Put your phone on its loudest setting, and vibrate, and put it next to your head on the bed. If he cannot reach you, you will regret it,” Maria picked up the next. Both the senior agents were keep straight faces, though with obvious difficulty.

“Rule four. Don’t bother trying to lie to Coulson. He knows. And if he doesn’t know…” Natasha’s grin deepened, “you can bet either Romanoff or Barton does, which means Coulson knows.”

“And last but not least, my favorite Coulson rule…” Maria said, covering her heart dramatically. “Don’t ever ask him a question unless you’re sure you want the answer.”

Misty snorted. “Yeah, I could have used that one.” She capped the bottle of yellow nail polish. “Toes are done, Maria. My turn. What do you think? I’m feeling bright.”

Maria wiggled her toes, careful not to smudge them. “Nicely done, Buffy.” She grinned. “How about that copperish one?” she suggested, pulling out the bottle and holding it up – not coincidentally, where Misty would see that it was nearly the exact shade of Catriona’s hair.

“Good choice,” Misty replied, her throat a little dry. So, Maria could read her too. Interesting.

Sam and Angie had also traded places – Angie went with a nice, feminine pink where Natasha chose the same purple she normally wore – and as soon as they were settled back onto the mattresses, conversation resumed as though uninterrupted.

“It might not be a bad idea to add ‘don’t hit on’ to the first rule,” Sam said thoughtfully as she neatly spread pink polish. “Or does he not get jealous?”

“Oh, he does,” Natasha agreed. “I’m pretty sure he’d have taken on Tony Stark, if Stark had laid a hand on me. Iron Man suit or not.”

Sam’s eyes went a little dreamy. “Coulson versus Stark… no suits…” she mumbled.

“Hey, quit fantasizing about my husband,” Natasha protested, but she was laughing.

“Sorry, Nat,” Sam replied immediately. “I just have a thing for older guys. Not that Phil is old,” she continued hurriedly. “Just, you know. Older than me.”

Natasha’s laugh grew. “I don’t care if you look. I trust all of you.”

“Oomph.” Angie put a hand on her chest. “Wow. That’s better than cocaine.”

“What is?” Natasha asked, looking at her with concern.

“Being trusted by the Black Widow is the best high I’ve ever had,” Maria said softly. “Apparently I’m not the only one.”

~ * ~


	8. Chapter 8

“Wait, when have you done cocaine?” Misty asked, swiveling to look at Angie more closely.

She shrugged. “Before I got free of my gene donors – my parents,” she added, at Catriona’s blank look. “I tried it at a pageant – one of the other girls had some – and I liked that it made it easier not to eat, and… well. It’s easier not to care when you’re high.” She shook her head. “Not the point. The point is – this is better.”

Natasha tried not to blush – tried to focus on Catriona, carefully applying polish – on Angie’s terrible revelation – on anything but the compliment, but it wasn’t working. “It isn’t that big a deal,” she muttered. “I trust… a few people…” she trailed off, mentally tallying them.

“Mmmhmm,” Maria’s disbelief was obvious. “How many of them are not part of this… clan?”

“Teaglach,” Angie corrected under her breath. 

Maria ignored her. “Or Clint’s? Or Phil’s?”

“Um.” Natasha blinked. “Pepper!” she said finally, victoriously. “I trust Pepper.”

“Potts?” Angie blinked. “Really?”

“We bonded, when I was under at SI.” Natasha crossed her arms over her knees, careful not to jostle her toes. “I used to trust Fury.”

Catriona sniffed. “I do not.”

“That isn’t exactly news, pixie,” Misty told her.

“What happened to change your mind?” Maria asked. “Was it being Chosen?”

“No…” Natasha thought backwards, trying to pinpoint the moment their working relationship had soured. “I think it started with Phil. Something happened to make him stiff around Fury, and… well, even before we were together, I tended to follow his lead.”

“I wonder…” Misty began, sitting back and looking into empty air. Her companions let her think for a moment, but when she didn’t continue, Sam nudged her. “Sorry. Half-baked theory. I’ll toss it around some more. This might be something I need Lancelock on.”

Natasha’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s new.”

Angie grinned. “You know, like a cross between Lancelot and Sherlock?”

“Suits him,” Maria murmured. She looked up at Misty, whose eyes were troubled. Maria tried to convey her question, and Misty seemed to understand, patting Maria’s shoulder gently. Nothing she could do to help, then.

When all six sets of toenails were done, Natasha decided it was time for the next phase. She walked to the kitchen – careful not to smudge her toes – and gathered the bags of junk food she’d bought. Maria had followed her, and brought the booze.

“Oh, yay,” Sam said, reaching for a beer. “I love this part. Let’s get silly drunk, eat things that are terrible for us, and say stuff we’d never tell anybody not in this room.”

Angie chuckled. “I think the saying stuff happens after the booze. I’m all for throwing up one of the comedies that you vetoed so strenuously, Nat, and getting giggly.”

Natasha agreed and walked over to the movie rack. After some debate, they settled on stand-up comedy – several different comedians – and settled onto the mattresses.

“You tried Doritos?” Maria asked, opening the bag and offering it to Natasha.

“Yeah,” Natasha said, and took a few. Angie and Catriona did the same. “Phil uses them sometimes he’s breading fish.”

“I’ve got to try that, someday,” Misty said absently. She was too absorbed in opening a package of Oreos to notice Natasha’s stillness. When the silence sunk in, she glanced over at the assassin and felt a pinch at her heart. Natasha’s face showed no sign that she’d reacted to the word, but the hand not holding a Dorito had crept to her abdomen, covering it protectively in a manner Misty had only seen when… “Oh, fuck,” Misty breathed. “Nat, I’m sorry.” She dropped the Oreos and scrambled over outstretched legs to reach Natasha. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” Natasha took a deep breath, closing her eyes and looking for calm. She’d let herself relax so much in their company that the word – just the word someday – had brought such a powerful vision of their potential future that it ached.

“Tell us what to do, achara,” Catriona urged, taking Natasha’s Dorito stained hand – discarding the chips – and holding it tightly.

“Just… give me a minute.” Natasha breathed again, carefully and deliberately. “Now I’ve got to convince Clint that I’m fine and he doesn’t have to come bursting down here.”

Catriona rubbed her thumb over Natasha’s knuckles. “If you need time with him – or both of them – take it.”

“No.” Natasha breathed again, finally opening her eyes. “Sorry,” she apologized to the room at large. “That’s another one of those loaded words around here. ‘Someday’ is our word for life after SHIELD – life after we go public.” She looked down at her abdomen, rubbed it once before resolutely removing her hand. “Having kids.”

Maria’s eyebrows shot up so high Natasha half expected them to keep going into her hairline. “Your SHIELD file says – ”

“I know. I am.” She cut Maria off, not able to tolerate hearing it right now. “The Great Mother says it is within Her power to restore that to us… and She is willing, whenever we are ready.”

“Holy shit.” Sam was staring at her. “I knew someday meant after SHIELD but…”

“I know, I’m not exactly mother material.” Natasha felt herself wanting to curl in – protect a life that wasn’t even possible yet.

“Bullshit,” Angie interjected flatly. “What the hell do you think you’ve been doing with us? Look, I’ve seen plenty of bad moms, and you aren’t going to be one of them. Jesus.”

Natasha blinked. She was not tearing up. She wasn’t.

“Hey.” Misty wrapped both arms around Natasha, hugging her close. “Even if you think you might not be the best mom ever, you’ve got two of the best husbands on the planet and a whole clan to back you up. When someday comes – and you promised me babysitting rights – we’ll handle it as a family, okay?”

Natasha nodded into Misty’s shoulder, letting a few tears escape. Catriona kept up her gentle stroking across Natasha’s knuckles. When Misty finally pulled back, Natasha was feeling more herself. “I can’t even blame that one on the solstice,” she said with a half-hearted laugh.

“Go upstairs for a few moments, dearest sister,” Catriona said in her gentlest voice. “If not for yourself, for Clint – and for poor treorai, who is likely half out of his mind trying to keep Clint from bursting down here.”

“Right as usual,” Phil said from the top of the stairs, where he was bodily restraining Clint. “Ladies, may I borrow Natasha for a few moments?”

Idly Maria wondered why that term didn’t bother her. Normally she bristled at it, but from Phil… “Only if you give her back,” she said aloud, forcing a smile as she looked up at the two men.

“Thank you.” Phil inclined his head gracefully, then locked eyes with Natasha.

“Excuse me,” Natasha extracted herself from the knot of women and darted up the stairs.

Misty shook her head as soon as the triad was out of sight. “Damn. She’d just relaxed, too.”

“She would not have reacted so, were she not relaxed,” Catriona pointed out. She patted Misty’s hand. “You did no wrong, laoch beag.”

“The Goddess can really do that?” Maria asked. “Restore her reproductive system?”

“Yes,” Catriona answered calmly. “Fertility is one of the easiest areas for me to heal – and it will likely be through my hands, that the Goddess heals Natasha. I am currently the only druid with healing gifts outside the healing done at the time of Choosing.”

“Hence your rescue in the desert.” Angie reached for a handful of chips, popping one in her mouth before looking down at the remainder in shock. “Holy mackerel. What are these?”

Sam picked up the bag. “Sour cream and onion potato chips.”

Angie reached out with both hands for the bag. “Mine.”

Laughing, Sam handed it to her. “They’re my favorite too, but I’ll share.”

Maria pawed through the bags of treats. “What did she do, hack our shopping records?”

“Probably,” Angie agreed around a mouthful of chips. “That’s one of those things that would be creepy if anyone else did it, and totally charming when Nat does.”

Misty grabbed her discarded package of Oreos and handed one to Catriona. “You might like these. They’re supposedly cookies, but it’s one of those things that I like purely because it doesn’t taste like anything found in nature.”

Catriona bit into the cookie with a cautious look on her face. “Mm. Not bad, but not the immediate click that those crisps are for Angie.”

“Crisps? Oh.” Misty chuckled. “Man, every now and again you say something so very British.”

“I am not British,” Catriona answered crisply.

“I know that… but calling them crisps is.” Misty wasn’t bothered in the slightest by Catriona’s sharp reply, just grinned at the druid. “I bet you’ve got weird little habits from all over the globe.”

“She’s not weird,” Sam protested, scowling at Misty.

“Of course I am, dainsearach damhsoir,” Catriona answered, but with a broad smile. “I have lived near a hundred times your life, I do believe that I have earned the right to be odd.”

Sam crossed her arms. “Translation, please?”

Catriona blinked. “Dangerous dancer. Do you dislike it?”

Sam reached into the bag of chips Angie was clutching. “Actually, I really, really like it. I just needed to know what it meant.”

“So that’s all of us, now, with Gaelic names?” Angie asked.

“All who are here tonight, certainly. CJ and Chuck have names in Gaelic, but the rest of the teagalach does not – yet.” Catriona reached into a different bag for a chip, sampling it daintily. “I don’t know the rest of them well enough yet to have named them, though I expect Lance’s will come easily.”

Misty wrinkled her nose. “Probably no sense putting thought into Alley Cat’s or Doc’s. I don’t think they’re going to be very involved. I didn’t think CJ was, either, but he seems to have turned a corner.”

“What’s going on with Alley Cat and Doc? That’s Cartegena and Ramanujan, right?” Maria asked. She wasn’t aware there were any difficulties in the squad.

Misty nodded, leaning back against the couch. “Doc is… reluctant to be involved. He says it’s just because of his college debt and his contract with SHIELD but…” Misty shook her head. Some of her blonde hair had come undone from her ponytail and was trailing in her face. “Sure, he’s got that nurse he’s sweet on, and I can’t blame him for not wanting extra unpaid duties, but…”

“He is from a really conservative family,” Sam supplied, liberating more chips from Angie. “His parents are first generation immigrants from India, even though Doc grew up in California. They have super high expectations – like mine.” She made a face. “He happened to be near when I got one of Mom’s ‘You should be doing more with your life’ calls, so we chatted a bit about what it’s like to be an utter disappointment to your parents.”

“If your parents are disappointed in you,” Catriona began primly, “then they clearly have chosen not to look at you with open eyes, for you are a credit both to your heritage and to your country.”

“Well, that’s… damn.” Sam was looking at the druid with wide eyes, chips falling forgotten back into the bag.

Angie nudged her. “She’s right, you know. Even if you still think of them as your parents and not gene donors, they don’t get to judge your worth.”

“You’re a damned good agent,” Maria agreed. “But if you throw me in the ring one more time, I might have to kick your ass.”

Sam’s shock turned to a smirk. “You can try.”

“No bouts in the living room,” Phil said from the top of the stairs, following his spouses down them. All three looked markedly calmer. Natasha was still holding Clint’s hand, and Phil had a hand on each of their midbacks.

“I found a favorite snack!” Angie announced, brandishing the bag of sour cream and onion potato chips.

Clint gagged theatrically. “Ugh. At least it’s not something I like – you’ll never have to worry about me stealing them from you.”

“I don’t care for them either, but I’m glad you’ve found something,” Natasha said with a small smile. She was still subdued, but seemed more at ease than when she’d gone upstairs.

“I thought you were banned from the clubhouse?” Misty asked, offering Clint an Oreo.

“Needed to convince my brain that everyone was alright,” Clint admitted sheepishly. He declined the cookie but released Natasha’s hand and stepped forward, offering his arms to Catriona. “And by everyone, I totally mean you, pixie.”

Catriona stood and let herself be cradled against him, rubbing her cheek against his silk-clad chest. He and Phil had both changed into the pajamas which matched hers and Natasha’s – Clint in blue, and Phil in red. “Whyever would I not be, dhearthair? I am safe with my teaglach.”

“Turns out that being a good brother is about more than just being annoying,” Clint replied. He didn’t make eye contact with the rest of the room, but his words were for them all. “Guess I learned more from Phil’s sisters than I thought, because I didn’t like feeling like I’d done something worthy of banishment and hadn’t apologized.”

“No apology necessary,” Maria assured him. She stood too, and stepped close enough to clasp a hand on his upper arm, squeezing. “Unless I miss my guess, the only way you screwed up was in not telling Catriona you were playing matchmaker – and that’s a pretty minor thing, in my book.” Clint raised his eyes to meet hers, surprised. “Clint… do you know that you’re the first friend to ever try to set me up with a girl?”

Clint blinked. “I am? But… why?”

“I’m told I’m undateable.” Maria looked away.

“Unloveable,” Catriona murmured. “That’s what you said earlier, that if you’re told it often enough, you start to believe it.”

“Well, if I was into women, and not, as Misty says, so very married, I’d do you.” Natasha’s words were flippant, but her tone was absolutely sincere. “And you’re sure as hell not unloveable. And if I ever hear somebody say that, I’ll—”

“Inform them of their error in a way that cannot be misunderstood,” Phil finished for her. There was steel in his tone, and Maria felt warmth kindle in her chest. Her grip on Clint’s arm tightened.

“Easy on those biceps, Maria,” Natasha warned, and there was mischief in the slight twist of her lips. “I’m fond of them. They’re the second best in the universe, after all.”

“Second best?” Clint squawked. There was a rush of giggling, which he completely ignored in favor of turning to his wife, mouth agape. “You said Stark’s weren’t as good as mine!”

“They aren’t,” Natasha agreed.

“Damn good, but not as good as yours,” Sam judged. Phil made a noise of agreement.

“Not Thor’s,” Clint begged. “I can’t compete with a demigod who wields a hammer made from the heart of a dying star.”

All of them were laughing now. “No, not Thor,” Natasha said between giggles.

“Then who…?” Clint looked so bewildered that Natasha gave in sooner than she’d intended.

“The Hulk,” Natasha told him, eyes twinkling. “Really, Clint, the only biceps I’ve ever seen that are more impressive than yours were on the Hulk.”

“Oh.” Clint thought about that, letting his arms tighten around Catriona again. “Okay. I can handle that.”

Phil’s laughter startled Maria. Even in his own home, Phil was restrained somewhat – this was a relaxed chuckle that flowed up from his toes. He curled an arm around Clint – getting Catriona as part of the bargain as well – and drew Natasha in with his other arm, kissing her lips lightly.

Maria expected him to say something, but he just stood there – arms around his lovers and the sister they’d claimed for their own… and she realized that his smile had touched each of the room’s occupants until they were all grinning at each other, feeling a bit foolish but very loved.

~ * ~


	9. Chapter 9

“We should go back upstairs, pretty bird,” Phil said quietly. “Let the girls have their fun.”

Clint disentangled himself from Catriona and sighed, nodding at his husband. “Right. Secret girl bonding rituals. I got it.”

“Maybe we could do just a little bonding before you go back up?” Misty suggested. “Just… because.”

Phil smiled. “We’re not going to be that far, grasshopper. If you need us, we’ll be here.” He released his spouses to approach Misty, kissing her gently on the forehead. “My little devilish nieces must have consulted Iris – their momma – before they planned this.” At their blank looks, he explained, “Iris has a psychology degree. Sometimes I think she’s the reason our family is all still talking to each other.”

“I would not be surprised were it true that Rosalie and Lilabeth had plans beyond a simple lesson in fun,” Catriona agreed thoughtfully. “Those girls are too clever by half.”

“Come now, lovebird,” Phil said, taking Clint’s hand and tugging him towards the stairs. “Do try to get some sleep tonight, ladies,” he chastised.

Natasha giggled. Until tonight, she didn’t think she’d giggled at all, but it felt completely natural. “Yes sir,” she said, jumping forward to get one more kiss from each of them.

She watched them go up the stairs – admiring their bodies as much as their hearts – before turning back to her guests. “Sorry about that.”

“No apology necessary,” Catriona said, offering her hand to Natasha. “Are you settled now, deirfiur m’chroi?”

“As much as I ever am.” She took Catriona’s hand, settling back onto the air mattress with a sigh. “It’s getting tougher, to stuff the wife out of the way to be the agent.”

“I have no idea how you three manage it,” Maria said, somewhat in awe. “Most SHIELD agents, you could ask them point blank if the three of you are involved – or any combination of the three of you – and get laughed out of the building… and then I see you here at home, and…”

“… and they look like they belong together, like they are but pieces of a whole,” Catriona finished for her. “Aye, and as it should be.”

“Hey, no melancholy,” Misty protested, when she saw Catriona’s eyes drop. “Nuh-uh. I forbid. No talking about what you don’t have. Let’s talk about what you want.” She waggled her eyebrows lasciviously. “So, pretty little pixie… what makes your heart go all aflutter?”

Catriona stared at her. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“You know, what kind of body makes you tingly?” Sam supplied, flopping onto her belly on the mattress next to Angie – mostly to stay in easy reach of the potato chips, which Angie had yet to set down. “I’m all about hands. Strong hands, the kind with calluses and you can just imagine them being used on you…” she trailed off, humming pleasantly.

“I… have never given it much thought,” Catriona admitted.

“Well, now’s as good a time as any,” Angie said. She pointed at the TV screen where a comedian was delivering a stand-up act. “How about him?”

Catriona looked at the comedian, tilting her head to one side. “I like that he’s tall…” she ventured, and at several encouraging looks she continued. “But he’s rather… gangly, isn’t he?”

“So you like ‘em beefy,” Misty supplied. “Chuck beefy, or Cuz beefy?”

“Neither!” Catriona said immediately.

“Not like either of them specifically,” Natasha soothed. “Just their body types. Chuck’s visible muscle and lots of it. Clint has some visible muscle – more than the average man – but not as much as Chuck. Phil has it, but it’s all hidden under his suit. What type do you like?”

Catriona regarded her thoughtfully. “I will like whatever ‘type’ my achroi ghra proves to be, achara. I do not prefer one body over another.”

“I think I’m figuring out why slumber parties are a preteen thing,” Maria said, sighing. “I bet they’re a lot more fun before sex and attraction complicate life.”

“Yeah,” Misty agreed. “I’d kind of forgotten that.”

“But we’re supposed to talk about boys! Or who likes who!” Natasha protested. “It’s item number seven on the list!”

Misty raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s time we see this list.”

Natasha gestured with her chin. “It’s folded up under my creds on the side table.”

Misty stood, walking to the front door and finding a bowl of keys and three sets of SHIELD credentials laid out neatly. She plucked the folded piece of paper from beneath Natasha’s and brought it back to the living room, reading it as she went. She handed it to Maria as she sat back down. “Okay, so how about if we talk about what makes us like people? Not physically, but I think we can talk about other things, right?” She directed this question at Catriona, who had peered hesitantly through her hair at the blonde. “Like… oh, I tend to like people who are sarcastic. I like being able to make little witty comments back and forth. So a sense of humor, and sarcasm. Like that.”

“Oh! Yes, I can do that,” Catriona agreed. She uncurled slightly from her huddled position. “I am drawn to people who make me laugh as well. I… sometimes struggle to find humor, so I value those who can shine light on it for me.”

Maria passed the note around to the rest of the Scoobies, kicking back to think about her own preferences. “Are we talking friends only, or potentially more? Because it’s a little different, for me.”

“Whichever,” Misty answered. She’d curled up rather like a large cat on one side of Natasha, touching both Natasha and Catriona, and she pushed her feet until they were resting against Maria’s thigh. Maria’s hand fell absently to her ankle again. “Whatever you’re comfortable talking about, but now I’m dying to know why it’s different.”

“Friends I’ve always liked – been drawn to, I like the way you say that, Catriona – people who are really open, or at least appear that way. That’s kind of how Clint and I became friends – it’s pretty easy to tell how he feels about a thing or a person. He doesn’t try to mask everything.”

“He does,” Natasha corrected quietly. “Just not with everyone. He liked you from the start, so you got a pretty open version of Clint.”

“He did?” Maria looked startled. “Why?”

“You want my opinion, or want me to ask him?” Natasha asked as she stroked Catriona’s hair.

“I’ll ask him later. I want yours.”

“When you first met him, you never once called him a carnie, a dropout, or an orphan. Made eye contact, shook his hand. And…” Natasha paused, her eyes glittering. “You complimented Lucille.”

Maria blinked, then started laughing with an abandon that surprised everyone. “He calls… his bow… Lucille?” Maria managed through gasps for air. “Like BB King’s guitar?”

“Because they make sweet, sweet music together,” Natasha confirmed, chuckling as well. “I’m doomed to be the other woman – Phil’s got Lola, and Clint’s got Lucille.”

“You know what that means, don’t you?” Angie said, a devilish look on her face. “We need to name your catsuit a man’s name, so that whenever they get annoying, you can tell them you’re going to go work out with John or James or Larry or whatever you name it.”

A giggle escaped Catriona, prompting Natasha to laugh as well. “I’ll keep that in mind. It’ll have to be the right name…” she trailed off, eyes dancing as she considered it.

“I’m with Clint on that one. I like people that don’t make snap judgements,” Sam offered, reaching for an Oreo. “I’m a lot tougher than I look. I like it when people kind of wait until I show them one way or another if I can do something, rather than just assuming.”

“Yeah, but those assumptions can be super handy in the field,” Misty reminded her. She reached for another bag of snacks and pulled open the puffed Cheetos, offering them around. “I like being underestimated, in the field.”

“Wait, go back,” Angie said, putting another chip in her mouth. “Maria, what’s different about the girls you want to be more? You said it was different.”

Maria’s shoulders hunched automatically but a pinch of Misty’s toes against her thigh forced her to relax them. “I’ve… always had to really look at whether they could be discreet.”

“That doesn’t count,” Natasha told her firmly. “That’s something you were forced to look for, not something you wanted. And for the record, I don’t think it should be something you should have to look for. I think you should be able to find somebody and be open about it.”

“Like you are?” Maria drawled. When Natasha stiffened, she shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it to be as rude as it sounded. It’s just… I don’t think I’m ready to be out. You and Clint and Phil and your future, that’s… I’ll be behind you one hundred percent, you know that, right?” Natasha nodded. “You three coming out as poly – hell, Clint and Phil coming out as bi – that will help, I think, but… I’ve been closeted a long time.”

“If Harry Potter taught us anything,” Angie quoted softly, “it’s that nobody deserves to live in a closet.”

“You choose to be in for yourself, that’s fine,” Misty told her, and somehow conveyed a hug with a squeeze of her toes. “But if it’s fear of rejection or discrimination – well, don’t fear that.” There was a fierceness to her tone that made Maria look at her sharply. “You want to rent a billboard in Times Square to tell the whole world you’re a lesbian, every damned Scooby will be at your back – and I’d bet we wouldn’t be the only ones.”

Maria found she couldn’t speak. Her hand squeezed Misty’s ankle, almost too tightly to be comfortable, but still no words would come. It wasn’t until Sam reached out and put a hand gently on her knee that she was able to respond. “Thanks.”

“Next time you take vacation – I know you don’t do it often, but it happens – you should let Phil book you a room at his parents’ inn in Wisconsin,” Natasha advised. “I think it would be good for you to spend time around Sarah and Iris, and their girls. See what it looks like, without the fear. I had the opposite problem… I didn’t understand the fear.” She resumed stroking Catriona’s hair. “Phil had a lot of it to deal with, too.”

“Because of… his past?” Maria asked, not sure if the Scoobies knew about Agent Price – or even if Catriona did.

“Mostly, yes.” Natasha’s smile was a little sad. “We were the first lovers he’d taken home in ten years, and I was the first woman since high school. His parents were… confused. Even as open-minded as a couple living with their lesbian daughter and her wife and running a place called the Rainbow Inn, they still had issues. Well, Alex did. Phil’s dad. Diane seems to be where Phil got that ability to just nod, accept, and roll with it.”

“Scuttlebutt still thinks Phil’s gay,” Angie offered. “Completely gay, not bi. According to the last I heard, he sometimes uses you, Nat, or the ‘mystery redhead’ as a beard.”

“How high is the pot on me and Clint?” Natasha asked.

“Almost four grand,” Maria admitted. “And we’ve written in that the winner has to have bet on it being an exclusive relationship – which means all of them lose, because of Phil.”

Natasha laughed. “Yes, I’m cheating on my husband… with my husband.”

When the giggles died down again, Sam nudged Angie. “So what do you look for in somebody?”

Angie thought about that for a moment. “I don’t really know. The guys I dated before, I basically did it because I wasn’t allowed.”

“You rebel, you,” Maria teased.

“Nah, it was stupid. I was stupid,” Angie admitted. “Sleeping with a guy because you know it’s going to piss off your parents is a really stupid reason to do it. It wasn’t even good.”

“Well, of course not,” Natasha sighed. “It takes pretty men a while to figure out that they’ll have a better time if they make sure the woman does, too.”

“Not ugly men?” Angie asked, eyebrows raised.

“Let me tell you a secret, young Padawan,” Natasha said, and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Men who don’t think they’re attractive, or are nerds or geeks, make the best lovers – because they’re so happy to have someone in their bed that they’re going to do their best to make sure you enjoy it enough to do it again. Pretty boys don’t care… there’s always someone else willing. Nerds, though… nerds know how to appreciate the bird in the hand.”

“I can never look Phil in the face again,” Sam complained.

“What makes you think I was talking about Phil?” Natasha smirked.

~ * ~


	10. Chapter 10

When the laughter died down, Natasha shifted the druid in her arms and realized Catriona was sound asleep. She smiled fondly and arranged her nearby, dragging a blanket over her. The druid did not wake, just pressed into Natasha’s side and let out a deep, content sigh.

“Wow, she’s really out,” Misty remarked, looking at the utterly relaxed redhead. “I didn’t figure she’d be the first to crash.”

“I don’t think she sleeps well, alone,” Natasha said. She tucked the blanket in more tightly, stroking the curly red hair one more time. “She’s always like this, when she stays over.”

“Huh.” Misty wanted to ask questions – a lot of questions – but didn’t want to dampen the mood any further. Instead, she passed Natasha the bag of Cheetos and rummaged in the grocery bags for other treats. “So, what else of this haven’t you tried, Nat? I mean, since you’re supposed to find a favorite.”

“I’ve tried all of the chocolate stuff,” Nat said, wrinkling her nose. “Clint has a sweet tooth.”

“Shocking,” Angie drawled with an eye roll. “I think his food pyramid consists of chocolate, artificial cheese, burgers, and coffee.”

“You wouldn’t be far off,” Natasha agreed. She took the bag that Misty handed her, peering at it curiously. “Did I buy these?”

“Nope.” Misty grinned. “I didn’t figure you’d had them, so…”

Natasha picked out what looked like some kind of gummy… fruit wedge? It was orange and sugared, so she assumed it was supposed to be an orange slice. Tentatively she nibbled on it. “Okay. These are good,” she murmured.

“Score!” Misty pumped her fist in the air, grinning. “I thought you’d go for fruity stuff. I’ve got some other goodies you might like, too. Skittles, and Jolly Ranchers, and Laffy Taffy.”

Sam stared at her squad leader. “You brought Laffy Taffy? Where did you find Laffy Taffy?”

Laughing, Misty extracted a large plastic container from one end of her duffel bag and handed it to Sam. “There’s a big box store near my apartment that carries it.”

“You are a wonder,” Sam told her solemnly before reaching for the candy.

“I could go for some Skittles…” Maria said tentatively, and was rewarded with a brilliant grin from Misty. The rainbow candies were produced and Maria began munching, half her attention on the Skittles and half on the comedian on screen.

“So, have we checked off all the important things on your list?” Misty asked Natasha as she changed DVDs.

“Um.” Natasha sat back down, pressed a button on the remote and reached for the list. “Did we do enough for number six? Activities?”

Maria worked very hard to keep her amusement tucked out of sight. Natasha, unsure, was a sight to behold, and one that Maria felt privileged to see. She exchanged quick, amused glances with Misty before speaking. “Well, we did paint toe nails… but maybe a game is a good idea?” She glanced at the sleeping druid. “Unless you think she’d feel left out.”

“No.” Automatically, Natasha smoothed the hair back from Catriona’s face. “Not if we’re going to play a drinking game, or truth-or-dare. She’d just feel out of place.”

Angie roused herself a little – she’d gotten sleepy – and twisted to face Natasha. “I’ve got a weird one we could play. Can be a drinking game, but doesn’t have to be. Learned it at a pageant.” At Natasha’s nod, she continued. “I ask a question like… what is my favorite color? Everybody who gets it wrong takes a hit – or a shot - and the person who gets it right gets to ask the next question. If nobody gets it right, the asker has to take two.”

“Huh.” Sam folded her knees up under her chin. “I could go for that. As long as I don’t have to try and guess whether anyone’s lying… I am never playing Two Truths and a Lie with SHIELD agents again.”

Maria snorted. “Don’t play Never Have I Ever with Clint then, either.”

“Your game, Angie, why don’t you kick us off,” Natasha suggested.

“Alright…” Angie tilted her head back, thinking. “What Hogwarts House did I get sorted into?”

Natasha snorted. “And you think my husband is a nerd? I’m going to say Ravenclaw.”

Sam and Maria agreed with Natasha, but Misty tilted her head to one side and regarded Angie thoughtfully. “Mm, no. Slytherin.”

“Got it in one, Buff.” Angie grinned. “No one ever gets it.” The three incorrect guesses obediently took drags on their beverages – no one really cared enough to pour out actual shots. “Your turn.”

Misty bit into another Oreo as she considered. “What’s my favorite TV show?”

“NCIS,” Angie said automatically.

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” Natasha smirked. Sam raised a finger to second that guess.

Maria narrowed her eyes at Misty, who smiled with faux innocence. “Xena.”

“Damn it, Maria, how the hell did you know that?” Misty grumbled.

“You’ve made that ridiculous war-cry in the ring.” Maria grinned. “Under your breath, but still.” She waited until the drinking and teasing had settled before she asked her own question. “What’s my favorite weapon?”

“Literal or metaphorical?” Natasha countered.

“Literal, physical weapon.”

Sam grabbed a piece of licorice from Misty and bit down contemplatively. “Your Glock.” Angie agreed fervently with her around a potato chip.

“Nah,” Natasha waved that off. “Too pedestrian. Sniper rifle.”

“Weighted sap,” Misty guessed.

“Damn. None of you got it,” Maria frowned. “Quarterstaff. It’s my favorite, even if it’s next to useless in the field.”

“Misty was closest. Should she go next?” Sam suggested.

“I’ve already had a turn, so Nat or Sam?” Misty looked between the two of them.

Sam groaned. “Alright, but I’m doing a stupid question because my brain is tired. What’s my favorite color?”

“Chocolate brown,” all four responded in unison, which caused them all to burst out laughing. The combination of the hour, alcohol, copious sugar, and relaxation meant the laughter was overwhelming, and no one was particularly surprised to see Phil appear at the top of the stairs, looking disgruntled.

“Girls, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it down,” he said sternly. 

Natasha’s eyebrows shot up – and then her eyes brightened and she was laughing at her husband as well. “Yes, sir.” She saluted him lazily with her vodka. “Sorry.”

Phil disappeared back down the hallway to the bedroom and it was silent downstairs for a moment, before they burst into quickly muffled laughter again. Somehow, trying to be quiet made it that much funnier, and the laughter continued until Angie put up both hands in surrender. “Stop, my abs can’t take it anymore!”

Still giggling, Natasha wiped tears from her face, reflexively checking that they hadn’t woken Catriona. “I don’t know why that was so damned funny.”

Sam grinned, green eyes dancing with amusement. “My mom calls it a sleepover high. And then the crash tomorrow, a sleepover hangover. I mean, we’ve had actual liquor so it’ll be more like a real hangover but…”

“Yeah, I get the idea.” Maria straightened her blanket and pillow, retrieving a rogue ducky slipper that had escaped turning their giggling. “Is it like a high?” she asked Angie.

“Um… kind of?” The hacker squirmed a little. “I mean, nothing else is really like coke but… this is kind of close, and a whole lot safer.”

Natasha nudged Maria. “Rude. Don’t bug the babies about their pasts.”

“We’re not babies,” Angie protested, at the same time that Maria said, “Natasha, are you actually drunk? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“According to my achroi ghra, I’m drunk on love,” Natasha told them primly. She wriggled around until she was on her back on the air mattress, one arm slung protectively around Catriona. “And maybe sugar,” she added, looking at the demolished snacks.

Misty crawled into the space between Natasha and Maria with a yawn. Quiet settled over the six women, interrupted by laughter at the stand-up routine and requests for various snacks and bottles to be passed. Angie was nearly asleep, propped up next to Sam, and Natasha had let her eyes close, though she was still laughing at jokes.

“You okay?” Misty asked Maria softly, angling her face away from the others.

Maria looked over in surprise. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’re still wound pretty tight.” Misty gestured at Maria’s posture – rigidly controlled, even now. “What can I do?”

The older agent snorted. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Misty rolled a little towards Maria. “Not used to cosleeping, right?” She took Maria’s silence as an answer. “If you try to stay awake all night, you’ll piss Sensei off.” Maria’s glare didn’t frighten the squad leader. “Don’t trust yourself to sleep around us?”

“Stop being so damned… Coulson-y,” Maria muttered.

Misty chuckled, but kept it low. “That’s quite a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” Maria crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to wake anyone with nightmares,” she admitted finally, when Misty continued to look at her.

“You really think you’re the only one here who gets them?” The humor was gone from Misty’s tone. “You think any of us would judge you for them?”

That hadn’t been the expected answer, and it took Maria several long moments to decide how to answer the blonde. “I guess not.” She let her shoulders relax, pulling her sleeping bag around her.

~ * ~

Phil couldn’t resist.

In the wee hours – long after the DVD had ended and all six women were asleep – he crept cautiously down the stairs, phone in hand.

Natasha was, unsurprisingly, curled protectively around Catriona. The street light that filtered through the windows made their hair appear the same shade, and Phil could believe them blood sisters. On Catriona’s other side, Angie and Sam were sleeping head-to-toe, and it amused Phil that Sam’s feet were tucked against Catriona’s shoulder.

What really tugged at his heart strings, though, was the pair on Natasha’s other side.

Maria slept on her back, ankles crossed, one arm at her side. It was such a barracks-style rest that Phil almost laughed at it – but her other arm was tucked around Misty’s shoulders. The blonde had draped herself over Maria, face pressed into the older woman’s neck, looking as completely relaxed as Catriona.

Quietly, he snapped several photos. He wasn’t sure who he’d allow to see them, but he wasn’t going to let this moment slip by without immortalizing it.

~ * ~


	11. Chapter 11

Maria woke suddenly, to the unfamiliar sound of someone giggling nearby. She didn’t move immediately but took stock – she was warm, and comfortable, and… not alone. Her eyes snapped open and she looked down at the blonde hair splayed over her, then at the delighted faces of Sam, Angie, Natasha, and Catriona. “Misty,” Maria murmured, then repeated it louder. “Wake up.”

“Comfy,” the squad leader muttered, nuzzling deeper into Maria’s shoulder.

“Summers! Wake up!”

Misty’s eyes sprang open and she looked up, startled, to see Maria’s face very close to hers. “Umm…”

“You guys looked so cute!” Angie squealed.

“You did indeed,” Phil agreed from the doorway to the kitchen. He was trying to master his smile, but was unsuccessful.

“Damn it,” Maria groaned. “And I suppose there’s pictures?”

“Well, duh!” Sam agreed.

Misty sat up slowly, running her hands through her hair. “Sorry,” she whispered to Maria.

“No, no,” Catriona said, shaking her head. “No apologizing for cute.”

Maria sat up as well, marveling at how rested she felt. Maybe there was something to be said for cosleeping after all. “If those pictures leave this room—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Maria,” Phil chastised lightly. “Family only. We know that.”

“Right.” She scrubbed at her face. “Coffee.”

Clint appeared behind Phil, two mugs of coffee in each hand. “Coming right up.” He distributed cups to those who reached out greedily for them, handing Maria hers last. “Don’t let it phase you, Hill,” he advised. “I think there’s this gravitational pull of cuddling around Catriona.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but it did earn a smile from her. “I’d believe it.”

“Breakfast will be ready shortly,” Phil announced. “Pancakes, bacon and eggs.”

“Okay, that’s going on my list,” Sam announced. “Must be able to cook.”

Natasha snorted. “Hate to break it to you, but nobody cooks like Phil.”

“Except Diane,” Clint amended. “And, no offense MB, but her French toast is better.”

“MB?” Angie repeated, eyebrows raised.

“You’re skirting perilously close to the edge,” Phil informed his husband.

“I didn’t use the forbidden nickname,” Clint protested, smirking. “They’ll never figure it out from that.”

“Uh huh.” Phil was unconvinced, but there was still amusement in his eyes. “Go mind the bacon, pretty bird.”

“Aye, sir.” Clint disappeared back into the kitchen, patting Phil’s backside as he did so.

“Everyone sleep well?” The query was polite, but his grin was mischievous.

“Yes, thank you,” Maria answered loftily. Misty giggled.

Catriona stretched. “I always sleep well here, treorai.” She glanced at her companions with a healer’s eye. “Anyone need a hangover remedy?”

“You have a hangover remedy? Who am I kidding. Of course you do.” Misty drained half the mug of coffee and grimaced. “I probably should take you up on that.”

Sam raised her hand. “Me too please, Catriona, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Catriona smiled, kissed Sam’s cheek and bent down to kiss Misty on the head before she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Does that ever stop surprising you?” Sam asked Natasha, her hand going up to her cheek where Catriona had kissed it.

For a moment, Natasha didn’t understand the question, but when it clicked she laughed. “I suppose it does. I don’t really think about it anymore. She just… likes to touch.”

“It’s adorable,” Misty murmured. “In between visits, I forget that. She’s this powerful, mystical, otherworldly being when she’s out of sight… and then she’s this charmingly naive cocker spaniel in person.”

“I shall take it as a compliment that you compare me to such a delightful breed.” Catriona reentered with two cups of tea, handing them to Misty and Sam with warm smiles. “I hope that my touch does not disturb you – any of you.” She glanced around the room, her eyes resting on Maria just a breath longer than on the others. “It is not intended to make you uncomfortable, it is just… something I do.”

“Surprised and upset are different things, pretty pixie,” Angie said cheerfully. “I think it’s great. It’s nice to have physical contact with someone that isn’t tactical training.”

Catriona offered her a small smile. The apprentices – junior agents – were all young and enthusiastic. They weren’t naive by any stretch, but they had a flexibility of spirit that Catriona associated with youth, and always enjoyed seeing.

“Food’s done!” Clint announced from the kitchen. A line formed, plates were filled, and all eight found seats at the dining table. Phil disappeared back into the kitchen for a moment, returning with a fresh carafe of coffee and another of tea. 

Maria poured syrup onto her pancakes, neatly cut a bite with the edge of her fork and bit down. Her eyes widened comically.

“I know, right?” Natasha said with a smirk, pleased at her reaction. She picked up a slice of bacon and bit into it. “Phil’s pancakes are criminally good, and Clint can fry bacon with the champs.”

Clint leaned over and kissed her bacon-tasting lips. “You’re biased, Sunshine.”

“Maybe… but I’m not wrong.”

“You rarely are, love.” Phil chuckled and refilled her coffee mug. He glanced around at their guests, who had gone quiet. “I’m sorry, were we being… too much?”

“Nope,” Misty answered immediately. “Conversation takes a back seat to breakfast, especially if you are like me and don’t get homemade breakfast often. Like, serious. I can’t remember the last time I had fresh made pancakes, not frozen waffles.”

Phil shuddered – a genuine manifestation of horror and not for dramatic effect. “That’s abominable, grasshopper.” Clint reached over and squeezed his forearm in comfort. “If you were to say that in front of my mother, she’d find a reason to feed you as often as possible.”

“Diane just likes to feed people,” Natasha pointed out, gesturing with a fork full of pancake.

“It appears to run in the family,” Maria said wryly.

His answering grin was a little sheepish. “Probably. I haven’t had the chance to cook for many people before. It’s… comforting.”

Clint gave up being subtle and scooted his chair closer to Phil’s until he could wrap an arm around his husband’s waist. “They aren’t complaining, loverling,” Clint murmured.

“Hell, no,” Sam agreed fervently. “I will never complain about you wanting to feed us. Or not wanting to feed us. There will be no complaints from me about the food.”

“Or the fussing.” Misty’s eyes met Phil’s. “Since that’s what you’re actually worried about, sensei. That we’ll think you’re hovering, nagging, fussing at us.”

Maria laughed at the expression on Phil’s face – equal parts astonishment and embarrassment. “You’re the one teaching her how to read microexpressions… it’s only fair she use it on you.”

“Gross misuse of power there, grasshopper,” Phil said, though his expression had relaxed. He leaned into Clint’s shoulder. “You’re right, though. I do worry that my… care… will be… unwelcome.”

“Never,” Catriona said immediately, in a tone that brooked no argument. Misty, Sam, Angie, and Maria agreed with her a half breath later. “Your love – yes, I know you did not wish to use that word, treorai, but that is what it is – is an integral part of this teaglach, and I will not have you ashamed of it.”

“I doubt I’m the only one who already considers you our patriarch – or clan chief, since familial terms make you break out in hives,” Misty added. “Last night and this morning just kind of… solidified it. You feel like our caretaker, in a good way.”

“And here I thought this slumber party was about teaching Natasha how to have fun,” Phil replied dryly. “I wasn’t expecting to find myself on the therapist’s couch.”

Clint snickered. “They’re your nieces. Of course they’ve got ulterior motives involving emotional growth for you.”

“Don’t think you’re exempt, dearling.” Natasha threw a wadded-up napkin at him, which he dodged easily. “Or did you think purposely asking you to play a role with bad memories was just coincidence?”

“I think we owe them a pretty awesome birthday gift,” Clint answered, evading the question. He looked down at his demolished breakfast. “Anyone want more bacon? Besides me?”

“As what you are searching for is an excuse to fry more… aye, another rasher would be welcome, dhearthair,” Catriona told him with a fond smile.

“Score!” Clint popped up from his chair, kissed her on the top of the head, and disappeared into the kitchen.

{You alright?} Natasha asked him silently.

{Too much emotion,} he admitted. {Just need a time-out. I’ll be fine, Sunshine.}

“Cuz okay?” Misty asked when Natasha’s eyes refocused. Natasha glared at her, but she brushed it off. “Hey, if I can mentalist Sensei, you know I can do Cuz.”

“He’s fine,” Natasha answered, reaching for Phil’s hand. “It’s difficult for us, sometimes, to handle emotion. Even good ones.”

“Me too,” Angie admitted. “Although the longer I hang out with the Scoobies, the easier it seems to get.”

Misty grinned. “Fun lessons, family bonding, self-esteem… what can’t this clan do together?”

Phil snorted, coughed, and began laughing so hard Natasha looked at him in concern. It was several minutes before he’d recovered enough to speak, and tears of merriment were rolling freeing down his cheeks. “None of you…” he began, then had to break for another spate of laughter. “None of you can clean a kitchen worth a damn.”

~ * ~


End file.
